Syndromia
by idreamedofstardust
Summary: Abby came to Germany for her own reasons. She didn't expect to be picked up by two Americans, drugged/kidnapped, then question whether the madman responsible for her predicament was actually mad. But reason is overrated and centipedes make bad pets.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, so as disgusting and poorly acted as this movie is, I couldn't help but be interested in the surgeon's character. Yes, yes, call me disturbing, call me gross, call me a waste of space. BUT, I've made a promise to myself to not make this story descend into how the movie was. Meaning that I'm not going to write too much gore or bad dialogue...although that was pretty entertaining in a very comedic way. This story will actually have a plot centered around an OC of mine who was picked up by Jenny and Lindsey before they got their flat tire, and the surgeon whom I really wish to explore and analyze. And I hate boring stories so of course I'm going to add in my spice and mystery and change certain things. I just hope that you keep an open mind despite the fact that this is one of the last movies anyone would every write a fanfic for. Call me demented, but my idea just morphed into something I had to write. Anywho, as always, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Abrasive Autumn<strong>

"Abby Post," she introduced with a breathless grin, throwing her knapsack into the back seat.

"I'm Lindsey and this is Jenny," the two American women introduced with friendly smiles.

_Don't look like serial killers. Thank god they speak English. My butchered German would have probably gotten me killed eventually._

"Kind of late to be hitchhiking," Jenny noted as the door slammed shut.

"Well try telling that to Hans "the Assgrabber". He's this cute German guy I met who wouldn't keep his paws off me. I ditched him at a diner a few miles away when he went to the bathroom."

Lindsey and Jenny exchanged glances, pleased with the answer.

Smiling reassuringly, Abby was only thankful that they believed the lie. And that they offered her a ride.

"I'm surprised you guys picked me up. It's the kind of hour that I expected killers to be lurking about," she commented, studying the darkness that had swiftly encompassed the woods as the car began moving.

"Please. I told Jenny that you looked cool and here I was, right all along. We're actually going to a party right now."

"Oh?"

"Yep. I think the party is in a large city so I'm sure that you can find a ride back to wherever you're staying," Jenny answered, studying the shivering girl in the rearview mirror.

Lifting the corner of her lips up again, Abby sighed internally. What a great mess the whole day turned out to be. And the worst part was that she was no closer to finding what it is that she came to Germany for.

Tuning out momentarily Jenny and Lindsey's argument regarding directions, Abby closed her eyes in solace, attempting to fight back a cancerous migraine. The past three days were spent locked up in her hotel room, attempting to understand the puzzle before her eyes. So many loose ends remained to it and her mother's involuntary help certainly wasn't doing any good.

_I remember he said Berlin. Something about Berlin._

Acknowledging grudgingly that the thought wouldn't reach her, Abby ripped her focus away from the past and set it firmly into the present.

"A little trouble?" Abby questioned.

"No," Jenny spat before throwing an apologetic glance toward Abby. "Sorry. It's just...I swear that these directions are like reading a fucking encyclopedia in Chinese."

Abby expelled a tired laugh as Lindsey rolled her eyes.

"By the time you learn to speak Chinese, it'll be next year. Just let me look at it, alright?"

Grabbing the map from her hands, Lindsey flipped on a car light and studied it.

"Shit," she answered two minutes later. "We passed the road."

"Damn it!" Jenny yelled, slapping her palm against the steering wheel in frustration.

A loud POP! erupted from outside as Jenny momentarily lost control of the car before getting control and pulling it slowly off to the side.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," she ground out again.

Although Abby didn't say it out loud, her thoughts were along those lines exactly. Being stuck in the middle of nowhere and not being able to continue what she'd came to the country for, especially when she was so near to the answer, was nearly death itself.

Luckily, Abby was resourceful and one of her first of many failed relationships had been with a mechanic. Not only had he inherited his father's business, but also his intense love and devotion to cars. Not much happened in the relationship department, having been in love with his vintage Mustang much more, but their first date did involve her learning how to replace a tire.

"I'm guessing this is a rental car?" Abby asked once Jenny had calmed down.

"Yes."

Nodding her head, Abby swung open the door and felt her teeth chatter loudly. It was brutally cool out and a storm was approaching. The smell was embalmed into the atmosphere.

Her eyes were forced to spring open and nearly teared up as the wind whipped at her vision without mercy.

Briefly glancing at the large tear in the tire, Abby hugged herself tighter as the wind picked up and splayed her black tresses around.

Jenny popped open the trunk from inside the car and as Abby took in the empty space, a frustrated "Shit" flew through her lips.

"What's wrong?"

Slamming the trunk down, Abby threw herself back inside the car.

"No spare tire. Not in the trunk, not under the car either."

Visibly shaking at her words, Jenny attempted to breathe in calmly as Lindsey glared at the road ahead.

And right on cue, thunder sounded loudly in the distance, followed by the pouring of rain that fell like pistols.

_Is this really happening? Please let this be a prank. You can come down God and tell me that your sense of humor got carried away and stranding a 22 year old girl in the German woods was your entertainment for the night._

Alas, Abby's wish never came true and within minutes, the rain evolved into a near deafening beat as it slapped the metal on top of the car with vicious precision.

"We could try to find a town or house?" Lindsey suggested.

"I am not getting my hair wet," was Jenny's firm reply.

Studying the two, Abby blew out a lethargic breath. While she did end up lucky with who ended up picking her up, Abby noticed the lack of real life experiences the two women held. It wasn't anything horrible per se, but it only reaffirmed that she'd have to be the negotiator.

"Well, it's either wait in this car until morning or until someone passes by or we try to find some place to dry off," Abby input with an air of finality.

They both shared a look, mulling over their options.

"We're walking," Lindsey stated, swinging open her door.

Abby followed and after a few minutes of mumbling to herself, Jenny poked her head out of the car and begrudgingly set after the duo.

APHAPHAPHAPH

As soon as the house staggered into view, Abby felt a cold chill rush through her. It had nothing to do with the storm banging away at them, nor the continuous bickering from her companions. No, this was a legitimate chill that had crept down her shoulders, all the way to her spinal cord and ended with a splurge, somewhere at her lower back.

"Finally!" Jenny cried in relief.

Before Abby had a chance to voice her discomfort, the two women were sprinting across the vast lawn.

"My god, this is just like a horror movie," Abby muttered as raindrops meandered down her cheeks. "And they usually get killed if they don't follow their instinct."

Abby's instinct was very obviously letting her know that the whole area had nothing but a malignant vibe about it.

"C'mon Abby," Lindsey shouted from the distance.

The rain had become so heavy that Abby could only make out deformed bodies through the downpour.

"What are the chances of it being a serial killer's house?"

But no amusement reached her lips and against her will, Abby began a sprint toward the massive house.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"Hello! Help! Hey!"

Lindsey repeated the same words, banging hopelessly on the door.

Abby stood behind them, keeping her lips in a straight line. The closer she'd gotten to the house, the more unease she felt. It was ridiculous of course to feel malicious vibes from a house, but the feeling refused to leave her no matter how many comforting thoughts she'd tried to pick at.

Jenny pounded on the door again while Lindsey shouted. It was as if the door had been made for incessant banging at eleven in the evening by two American women.

Abby's gaze however strayed toward the window and with squinted eyes, she took in the man staring at them.

His eyes first zoned in on the two women at the door, banging harshly against it before setting back in an almost surprised gesture, at Abby.

Meeting his eyes, Abby tilted her head. The level of strange only seemed to intensify as she briefly wondered why he took the time to peek out his window. If he had nothing to worry about, wouldn't he just open it without checking to see who it was? Did he have something to hide?

The man tore away his gaze first and Abby knew what was coming.

_For goodness sake, this is just a house. We're going to get in, get help, and go home. _

The door slowly opened and a tall man greeted them with cautious eyes.

"Thank god," Jenny sputtered. "Our car broke down a few miles away. We've been walking for a really long time. Could we come inside?"

Lindsey simply nodded her head, her teeth chattering so badly that a proper word couldn't leave her lips.

The man observed the two women silently before resting his gaze on Abby.

Abby only stared back, her green eyes narrowing almost challengingly.

After what seemed like a minute, he gestured with his head inside.

Jenny and Lindsey threw themselves in to the heated house with relief, but Abby stayed glued to her place on the ground.

_Am I really going to deny myself warmth just because this guy's house is setting me on the edge?_

"Are you coming in?" he demanded, his dark brown eyebrows forming a straight, steel line.

"I-," Abby began, unsure where all of her caution came from, especially since Jenny and Lindsey didn't seem to feel it around the man, "yeah."

Glancing down at her feet, Abby stepped into the house and immediately responded to the warm with a purr that had her tongue rolling at the sensation.

"Thank you," Abby responded, turning her form toward the man.

All the peace that had momentarily settled in her, vanished as she watched the man lock the door not six, but seven times before pocketing the key used for five of the keyholes.

"Paranoid about a home invasion?" Abby joked, her voice coming out weaker than intended.

Taking in a breath, the man focused on something behind her.

"You can never be too careful," he replied, his obvious accent causing the words to come out distorted and aggressive.

Nodding her head, Abby turned back around and began to walk forward.

_I am not going to compare this to the Green Mile. I am not going to compare this to the Green Mile._

Instead, she focused on the striking paintings marring his white walls. The further down the hall she got, the more obvious it was that the man was rich. Nearly screaming out luxurious, the house indicated just in its vastness from the outside that it was bought with a sense of superiority. Not too many furniture pieces littered one place and as Abby entered the living room, the bleak manila couch and matching recliners nearly showcased a sign above them that signified their expensiveness.

Currently seated on the ornate furniture were Jenny and Lindsey, soaking and dripping wet.

"Could you call the nearest rental car place?" Jenny questioned as soon as the man entered the living room.

Abby stood next to the seats, unable to find the will to sit down.

The man met her eyes with a somewhat confused glance before seating himself.

"Our car broke down a few miles away," Jenny added again, as if her statement would explain their sudden appearance.

"Yes," he answered slowly.

This time, Abby was proud to notice that the way he answered had set off some sort of alarms in her friends' heads.

"Alright," Lindsey stated uncertainly. "How far do you live from Berlin?"

The man carefully took his time answering the question. It was as if he was calculating a difficult math problem.

"50 miles," he gruffly replied.

"So you don't mind if we crash here until the ride comes, do you?"

Abby hid a smile as the man's eyebrows scrunched up. It was obvious that he wasn't one hundred percent up to date with American lingo.

"Can we stay here until the car service shows up?" Abby translated after a minute of silence.

Turning his head sharply, the man leaned back into the couch and monotonously answered, "Yes."

Seemingly satisfied with the reply, Jenny stood up and Lindsey soon did the same.

"Where's your bathroom?"

"Nearest hallway, first door on left."

It was said in the same detachment that he'd greeted them with.

"Right...well, we'll be right back."

For a second, Abby thought that Jenny was referring to her but Lindsey soon crossed in front and followed Jenny down the hallway.

_Are you guys really leaving me with him? Really?_

Refusing to meet the gaze locked on to her, Abby's eyes flew over more paintings in the room. One in particular had her crinkling her brow in interest as her eyes explored a symmetrical blob coming together.

"Fascinating paintings," Abby muttered distractedly, "do you live here with your wife?"

"No," was his quick reply.

This caused Abby to glance down and finally take a seat as his eyes seared straight through her.

Leaning back, he lifted his head up as a hand clutched on to the couch in deep concentration.

"I don't like human beings."

Lowering his head, he met Abby's eyes again with an open stare.

"You don't like human beings?" Abby repeated in confusion.

The words bounced around on her tongue, strange and foreign.

"Why not?" she finally asked, her curiosity on overdrive at such a statement.

Blowing in a genuine air of surprise, the man studied Abby skeptically as if deducing how serious she was about the question.

"I like being alone."

Abby leaned back and expelled a giggle through her throat.

"What?" was his sharp reply.

"You didn't answer my question...which technically is your own question. Being lonely doesn't justify your dislike for human beings. There are people who enjoy their privacy but still enjoy human company. In fact, I think human contact is necessary, good or bad, to be able to function. If we never had human contact, we'd still be in the age of the apes."

This time, the man was the one to scrutinize her with something building behind his expression.

Finally, he let out a short, quipped laugh that ended as soon as it began.

"What?" Abby questioned this time, her cheeks sprouting a cherry red.

"Your childish psychology is amusing."

Clenching a fist slightly, Abby observed the man lift the corner of his lips briefly as he stood up.

"I will go call the rental service."

Nodding her head dumbly, Abby attempted to come up with something witty to reply. However, the opportunity passed by as quickly as their conversation had and she was only left to ponder on her own thoughts.

_Jerk. I bet he learned human compassion at the bottom of a lake...or from a pack of wolves._

If Abby wasn't in such deep thought, she might have noticed that as the man spoke into the phone in German, his words didn't quite make sense. Having learned most of her German from a little phrasebook she'd kept in her knapsack as well as the residents of Berlin, Abby still wasn't completely deaf to the most basic interpretations of the language.

These interpretations included questions regarding transportation.

But she paid no mind to the conversation and allowed her scurried thoughts to drift from her current situation back to the reason she was in the country in the first place, unaware of the ways that her life would shortly and strangely become derailed.

APHAPHAPHAPHA

"What the fuck did you do to her?"

Abby couldn't recognize whether it was Lindsey or Jenny that had screamed. Honestly, she wouldn't have been able to discern the difference if she tried. The world around was slowing down and all of the voices in the room had melted into a melodic pot. She had no sense of falling into unconsciousness, but a part of her understood her dangers clear and present.

The glass of water slipped lazily from her hand and as the surroundings became blurry, Abby could only ponder her cursed situation.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it. I knew as soon as he asked...as soon as he brought the water. As soon as he yelled at Lindsey for spilling the water. But no...I just had to shove aside my discomfort to make it seem like I wasn't judging him on first impressions. Once I reach consciousness, I'm going to rip off his-._

Another piercing yell lit up the warm surroundings as Abby gracelessly slipped against her own will into an unwanted sleep.

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><p><strong>I'm ready for the criticism. From most people's out look on the movie and some of the reviews I've read for other stories, I'm prepared to take a beating. Still, if there is interest, let me know your thoughts in a review :D!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**So I have 1 review, thank you very much...I find it kind of cool that someone who's never even seen the movie, thought the chapter was alright. No alerts however, so the only person I'm writing so far is myself...I'm such a loser. But if anybody does decide to get into it, this chapter requires a thorough knowledge of the German language...or you could just scroll down to the very bottom of the page and read the translations I put for each phrase/word I used. Anywho, enjoy as I dissect my character and everyone around her...figuratively of course! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Belligerent Bombshell<strong>

As Abby's eyes struggled to flutter open, the brutal pounding of a five ton truck smashing into her was what electrified her entire body. From head to toe, a constant throbbing coursed through. This alone caused her to pause in the attempt at opening her eyes.

Her mind cleverly used this time to recall all of the things that had led to her current limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness. And it was remembering the creepy house, the decision to ignore her instinct, Jenny and Lindsey, as well as being drugged at a most inconvenient time, that renewed Abby's will at attaining visual contact.

As soon as her eyes sprang open however, Abby regretted it. The light, while it was dim, was intense and hit directly in the retinas causing her to slam her eyes hastily.

Twitching, her nose picked up a sickeningly cleansing smell reminiscent of an overly polished hospital.

Licking at her dry lips, Abby ventured another attempt at opening her eyes.

This time she wished she'd kept them closed.

"Jesus."

She was laying in a cot with her clothes nowhere in sight. Instead, a teal hospital gown covered her freezing form. But, that was not the worst part.

Abby's eyes landed on her left hand just to see it bound to the side of the cot with an IV stuck in to her vein which wriggled every time she moved her arm.

Swinging her head to the other side, Abby nearly groaned when the same thing met her glance. And then her eyes flickered up.

_Lindsey? Jenny?_

Both girls were passed out, but in the same garb as herself a few feet away. Their hands were bound to each side of the cot and they looked just as helpless.

_This isn't happening._

Keeping her mouth shut to prevent herself from screaming, Abby heard a small squeak from her left.

Turning her head reluctantly, Abby couldn't contain a gasp at the sight of a man who was wide awake with a gag in his mouth. He was struggling against his binds in vain but as soon as he'd seen Abby come to, his voice emerged.

"Mphm."

Abby pulled harshly against the binds as panic crept into her. She noticed an IV in his arm as well and his pale complexion. He looked ill and the more he thrashed around, the less of a chance he had at savoring his strength.

"Don't struggle or you'll lose your energy," Abby softly commanded.

The man met her eyes with fear and only continued fighting the binds.

Abby felt her pulse jerk unsteadily as a new worry entered her. What the hell was she doing here? And when was the guy who'd drugged them, coming back? Most importantly, what did he want?

"Please, just calm down," she pleaded, her eyes glancing at the pacemaker beside him. The beat of his heart was increasing steadily, too fast for the amount of oxygen he was inhaling through his nostrils to catch up with.

Whether his eyes finally took in the machine and realized his current danger or Abby's voice calmed him, the man eventually ended up restricting his movements and laying back on the cot.

The entire time, his frightened blue eyes never strayed from Abby's.

"Do you speak English?" Abby gently asked as his heart beat gradually became normal.

Lifting an eyebrow, the man turned his head to stare up at the ceiling. Pearls of nervous sweat beads rolled down his face and tears soon mixed in.

"Shit," she mumbled, realizing that there was only one way to communicate with him.

Mulling over everything she'd learned in the month that she'd been in the country, Abby took in a deep breath.

"Sind Sie gut?"

The man's head whipped around to stare at her, faint hope residing in his irises. He nodded his head uncertainly and Abby was relieved to find an established way of communication. All she had to do was make sure she worded things the right way.

"Gut. Wissen Sie...," Abby trailed off, her forehead crinkling in concetration. "Sie sind hier gewesen?"

Although Abby knew that her German didn't translate perfectly, she trusted the man to know what her questions were.

Nodding his head rapidly, the man's eyes welled up with more tears and Abby sucked in a breath. She had never seen so much pain, so much sorrow, so much unrelenting fear in a person's eyes before. It made her breath catch and heart quench.

"Ich heisse Abby," she informed softly, lowering her tone to make the man feel somewhat at ease. "Ich bin von Vereinigte Staaten."

She didn't know why she was telling him where she was from. It's not like that could magically cure his hellish predicament. Still, the more Abby talked, the calmer the man seemed.

"Halten Sie an," she stated, turning her head to her companions.

Both Lindsey and Jenny hadn't stirred since Abby had awoken. Either they'd taken much more of what ever knocked them out than she had, or they were incredibly sound sleepers.

"Lindsey? Jenny?" Abby whispered.

Neither girl moved so Abby called their names again, louder this time. No result.

"Hmph."

Switching sides, Abby met the man's gaze again.

His eyes traveled up to the ceiling once more with fear fully replacing the blue in his eyes.

Abby followed his gaze and heard the patter of footsteps above.

"Oben?" she questioned more to herself than to the man.

Her ears perked up only to hear the footsteps slowly fade away.

Peeking cautiously at the door, Abby prayed that the man wouldn't make an appearance. The room they were currently lying in was set up like a makeshift laboratory or worse yet, doctor's workplace. Surgical tools as well as normal hospital gear lined some of the tables her eyes had trailed over. Near Lindsey and Jenny was a long, metal slab that glittered coldly in the grim room.

Closing her eyes Abby finally allowed sputters of fear to enter her. Up to this point she'd hoped that there was some sort of misunderstanding. That her current placement could be explained as some cruel joke. That the man beside her was acting and Lindsey and Jenny were in on it.

However, as more time trailed on and the two girls beside her failed to return from their nap, Abby felt a furious hopelessness strike her. This was not supposed to happen. All she'd wanted to do was find her-.

Roughly shaking her head, Abby met the man's eyes beside her and took advantage of the fact that she could speak.

"Haben Sie eine Familie?"

The man nodded his head as the tears finally ceased their gravitational spiral down.

"Kinder?"

Another nod.

"Ein?"

A firm shake of the head caused Abby to visualize the phrase book's descriptions once more.

"Zwei?"

Another firm shake sideways.

"Drei?" she asked in surprise.

This time the man swung his head up and down eagerly as his eyes lit up.

"Gut. Alle jungen?"

He shook his head no.

"Alle Madchen?"

No was his answer again.

Letting out a sigh, Abby asked, "Zwei Madchen und ein Junge?"

Abby grinned as the man nodded his head in near excitement. Or as excited as one could be when they were forcibly restrained to a cot.

"Schone kinder?"

The man nodded his head again with obvious light in his eyes.

"Gut."

After that, Abby's brain seemed to pause. No more German came to her and worse still was the sound of footsteps returning above.

"What the hell?"

Abby snapped her gaze to find Lindsey coming to, shaking her head in confusion.

Her green eyes met Lindsey's who recognized just by her stare that something was off. And that was when she began screaming.

"What the fuck? Oh my god!"

Flinging herself up from the pillow like a jack in the box, Lindsey pulled against the restraints in vain before taking in Jenny's form to her right.

"Jenny! Wake up, Jenny. Oh god, please wake up!"

"Lindsey," Abby warned, hearing the footsteps pause momentarily before shifting the opposite way of their original direction.

Her stomach churned and insides rattled as her own form ascended into a sitting position. The man was coming down stairs.

"Jenny! Wake up damn it!" Lindsey cried, tears falling freely down her cheeks.

"Lindsey," Abby stated again, this time more firmly.

"Wha-at?" she sobbed without turning her body.

"He's coming."

This had Lindsey struggle even more as she kept on screeching for Jenny to wake up.

Abby on the other hand laid back down on the cot and stared up at the ceiling. If the man wanted them to escape, he would have kept the binds looser. But the fact that they cut painfully into her wrists made Abby realize that escape wasn't possible at the moment. Not only that but drugs don't wear off as quickly as assumed. Even if she was to get on her feet, there was no guarantee that her body would be supported.

Her mother had worked countless years at a pharmaceutical company and Abby had learned sometimes more than she wanted to know. Like how painkillers had been stolen for 13 years straight from the store, only to be found inside her mother's blood system once an autopsy was performed. The overdose came three months before Abby had decided on leaving the country.

"Lindsey?"

Inhaling sharply, Abby listened as Jenny's confused screams began to fill the room.

"No, no, no. Fuck. What the fuck?"

"Please, let us go!"

Meeting the man's eyes beside her, Abby attempted to give him a soothing smile. It was anything but what she felt. Still, Lindsey and Jenny were too hysterical to understand it; their screams and pleads nearly becoming deafening.

And that's when Abby's ears caught in between the screams, the first slam of a foot on the step.

_Don't panic. Whatever you do, don't panic. Maybe he can be reasoned with. Maybe I can-._

Pondering back on the evening, Abby attempted to decipher whether the man could be reasoned with at all. His actions had seemed so cold and unattached. Like he wasn't part of humanity, merely observing its' complex features.

"HELP!" Lindsey shrieked for ten seconds straight until she became deprived of oxygen.

Abby shifted herself into a half sitting position, keeping her eyes glued to the man beside her. Unfortunately, the man had heard the footsteps also. Tears began to flow in thin cascades down his cheeks.

_Why this guy? He's got a family he loves and a life worth living. What's he done to deserve this?_

No miraculous voice answered her plea. In fact all the voices that had been screaming, died suddenly in the air.

Hesitantly shifting her gaze, Abby's eyes froze as she took in the man who had first allowed them into his home. He stood with a small grin on his face that made Abby want to rip it off and shove it through a paper shredder.

"Ah, and so they are awake!" he couldn't help but exclaim.

"Let us the fuck go you fucking psycho!"

Abby remained mute as Lindsey's threat was ignored.

"First," he muttered, slapping his white lab coat pocket as if he'd forgotten something.

"Help! I swear to God that when I get out of here I am going to report you to the fucking authority!"

Approaching all four of the captives, he studied the pacemaker near the man who couldn't keep his heart beat still.

"Sich enstpannen," he muttered to the man lying helplessly in the cot.

Frustrated that she didn't understand his command, Abby tried to reignite her knowledge of German words. The man beside her was going to have a heart attack if he didn't calm down.

"Who the hell are you?" Lindsey screamed.

The need to find the right words increased tenfold as what she assumed now to be a doctor, made his way over to the man in the cot. He dismissed all eye contact with Abby as he placed himself in between her and the man's cot.

"Let us the fuck go!"

From her vantage point, Abby could meet the man's eyes easily but worry entered her as the doctor pulled out a syringe from his pocket.

"I am sorry," the doctor spoke, "but your blood tissue does not match."

"No."

This time it was Abby that let out the plea and for a second, it seemed that the doctor had paused too, surprised to hear a different voice besides the two screaming at him.

Abby felt shivers run through her as she understood why the needle was levitating over the IV. For whatever the doctor had planned for them, the man's blood tissue wasn't permittable. That meant elimination of the body.

And the man in the cot knew because his eyes widened and head shook in harsh protest.

"Es tut mir leid, mein Freund," the doctor stated, his fingers examining just where to puncture the IV with the syringe.

"Hmphm!" the man cried, unable to stop the downpour of tears. And although Abby didn't see it, the man's petrified fear caused his lower body to release urine all over himself. Mixed in with the vulnerability and unrestrained terror in his eyes, Abby couldn't help the sob which broke through her quivering lips.

She'd understood the doctor's words perfectly, but she'd be damned if a selfish apology was the last thing the man was going to hear before the end of his life.

"Horen! Denken Sie daran Ihre Kinder. Ein Junge und Zwei Madchen. Ihre schone kinder!"

The man ceased in his struggles. His eyes connected with Abby's and the pool of tears slowly retreated into concentration.

"Denken Sie an Ihre schone Familie," Abby begged, relaying a last command through her green eyes which had began to water.

The doctor's back stiffened, but he made no move to turn around. His hand lingered over the IV for a few seconds before he glanced down at the man's closed eyes and stabbed the syringe into the plastic tube.

The man's body jerked briefly before it settled and an echoing scream resonated from Lindsey and Jenny as Abby felt two tear drops meander their way down her cheeks.

The pacemaker turned into a straight green line and beeping soon indicated his passing.

_He did not deserve to die! _

Remembering some of the local dialect being thrown around at a Berlin bar she'd strolled into what seemed like a lifetime ago, Abby hopelessly whispered, "Verdammt."

For the next few minutes, she furiously ignored everything going on around her. The doctor turning around, Jenny and Lindsey's empty curses and threats, even the sound of her own heart beat.

It felt like she'd been repeatedly punched in the face, her eyes throbbing with unshed tears. Every time she attempted to take in a large breath, a sharp pang sliced into her chest accompanied with a loss of oxygen.

Abby had never seen anybody die...who didn't deserve to. And this only amplified the loss. The man hadn't deserved to die.

That statement kept repeating in her mind like an answering machine, causing her to slip out of reality and take shelter in her subconscious as long as her frailed mind would allow it.

It only took a snap of a finger in front of her face to bring Abby back to the cold room and shrieking friends and psychopathic doctor.

Her eyes stubbornly glanced at the doctor's and nearly fled at the barely suppressed apathy there. No sympathy, no emotion. Simple indifference. And his next statement only fueled her dislike for the man deeper.

"Your blood tissue is not a match either," the doctor murmured.

He met her eyes again as if he was expecting a raging reaction just like the man's.

Abby simply leaned back in the cot and stared ahead without a trace of emotion on her face.

"You can't! You can't kill her!" Lindsey yelled through her hoarse throat.

Jenny chimed in even louder and Abby couldn't help but smile. She always did hope that somebody would be sad when she died.

"Guys," Abby stated, her voice oddly calm, "it's alright. I'm alright."

The two women paused, staring at her in silence.

"I'm alright," Abby repeated, casting her gaze toward them. "Thanks for picking me up though. Not exactly what I imagined would happen, but you can't always get what you want."

And her own statement struck her rather soberly. She'd naively assumed that getting to Germany would automatically guarantee her puzzle being pieced together. That the random flashbacks and dreams would make sense. That the father she'd last remembered as a 10 year old, would suddenly come charging into her life with a regretful story as to why he had to leave. Most of all, she had let down her guard. This was the price she paid for it.

The cool pressure of the needle made her blood freeze as it traveled teasingly up her arm before transferring up the IV.

_Should I look him in the eye when he does it? Is that what dad did to his victims?_

A weak laugh shook through her as she realized just how ironic the situation truly was.

But, Abby decided why not. Surely she could pick out the motive inside the doctor's brown, cold stare.

So she turned her head on the pillow and met the doctor's eyes. Fear nor surprise registered as he stared at her back.

Call it a battle of wills or last minute musings, but Abby found herself fascinated because fascination was exactly what greeted her back.

She didn't know whether it was from any deep, inner turmoil pounding away through his blood system or the excitement of having the power to end someone's life in his hand.

As her stare increased in intensity, the answer she declared was neither. He seemed so casual, even meek. As if he'd never been around so much bloodshed before. His actions were proper and precise. Definitely a near perfectionist.

Still, something else fueled that fascination and she had no idea what it was.

_He doesn't kill for pleasure._

This thought took a bit of convincing to make her believe it. He had murdered a man before her eyes without any alternative choice. Like it was the only option available. Did he have another option?

_He has plans for Lindsey and Jenny. If he was going to kill us all, he probably would have done it already. It must mean that he's keeping them alive and wanted them to see the man's death as well as my own. Why?_

In case they tried to escape? A glimpse of events to come?

Abby hated to admit it but a building curiosity began to sprout inside her. Questions spanned into subcategories ranging from the simple to the meticulous. Questions that despite her soon to come death, she had a sudden desire to have answered.

For so long she had been able to study and pick apart people just like her father had. Their emotional stability, pandering desires, and every flick or twitch that mapped out the contours of the face like an accurately drawn map.

The doctor for whatever reason, was incredibly well at hiding what it is that he felt. Or perhaps what he was feeling was so obvious that she'd overlooked it.

_Why am I caring about how he's feeling?_

It was at this point that Abby jolted herself with a shiver and realized that he hadn't stuck the needle into her IV yet. She must have been giving him a death glare for quite a few minutes, yet his hand still lingered...uncertainly?

No, that couldn't be it. Just because his motive for killing wasn't one based on tribunal passions didn't mean that keeping her alive would be a wise decision.

But like sticky honey cascading from the bark of a tree, the minutes floated by and the doctor gave no sign of any imminent decision. In fact if Abby's eyes were seeing things correctly, the doctor had retracted his hand a few centimeters away from the IV.

"What are you doing?" Abby barked, her voice almost angry.

For a moment, the doctor seemed just as confused with his actions, until he slid back into a mask of indifference.

But Abby knew that it was no longer indifference. Something had changed in the minutes that they had taken to stare each other down.

Instead, the doctor switched his syringe from a table near him and then stereotypically flicked the needle with his fingers, causing liquid to squirt out.

"I thought my blood tissue wasn't right," Abby noted, suddenly on edge.

"It is not," he agreed without looking at her.

"Then why-."

Abby never had a chance to finish her question as the needle divulged darkness before her eyes once again. In turn, this caused Lindsey and Jenny to renew their shrieks as the doctor carted his rolling trolley toward them next.

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><p><strong>Translations that I hijacked from YahooBabelAltavista since I don't understand a lick of German: <strong>

**Sind Sie gut - Are you alright?**

**Gut - Good**

**Wissen sie - Are you...**

**Sie sind hier gewesen - Have you been here long?**

**Ich heisse - My name is...**

**Ich bin von Vereinigte Staaten - I am from the United States**

**Halten Sie an - Hold on**

**Oben - Upstairs**

**Haben Sie eine Familie - Do you have a family?**

**Kinder - Children**

**Ein - One**

**Zwei - Two**

**Drei - Three**

**Alle junge - All boys**

**Alle madchen - All girls**

**Und - And**

**Schone - Beautiful**

**Horen - Listen**

**Denken Sie daran Ihre Kinder - Think of your children**

**Denken Sie an Ihre schone Familie - Think of your beautiful family**

**Verdammt - Damn it**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you like it so far since from here on, I'll be changing some things and leaving in others. Let me know what you're thinking in a review :).**


	3. Chapter 3

**So I got 2 absolutely fantastic reviews and um...yeah, this story is for you two who reviewed this past chapter...you know who you are. Thank you so much because it was an absolute joy reading them. Hope you stick with me as I inch along this story.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 - Cataclysmic Centipedes<strong>

For the next two days, Abby Post drifted in and out of conscious through a severely drugged state. After the first time the doctor had drugged her, she'd woken up to the pungent smell of decomposing flesh. The doctor hadn't moved the dead German man from his cot and well aware that it only took a day for a corpse to begin smelling, Abby had determined a day to have gone by at least.

Those thoughts however, were only limited to a few minutes. Slowly but surely, her eyelids eased shut as if two heavy weights were lying on them.

The next time she came to, the body was gone.

There was no sense of knowing whether it was morning, afternoon, or night as the doctor cleverly wiped away any way of figuring the answer out. Actually, said doctor was never in sight. Severely limiting her head movements, Abby was only able to discover her own position had been changed. Where she once was in the middle of Lindsey and the German man, she now was to Jenny's right. At the very edge of the three cots.

_God I hope he's not searching for another victim._

But Abby remembered what the doctor had said. The man's blood tissue wasn't right...then again, neither was hers and she was still alive.

Again, a forceful sleep denied her the ability to cognitively sort out her situation. And so she embraced it unwillingly.

Finally, Abby awoke on the fifth day of captivity with no sleepiness residing inside. Her stomach hadn't growled so she guessed he'd fed them all through a feeding tube, a very disconcerting thought considering the food could have more denotative drugs.

What really had her glued to her bed in panic however was the fact that when she awoke on the fifth day, the doctor was downstairs with them. Keeping himself busy, he plugged in wires attached to a projector. A white screen in front of his audience sat in a teasing manner, almost begging them to figure out what their futures would include.

"Jenny, are you alright?"

Closing her eyes, Abby listened to her friends slowly shake off their grogginess. The last thing her head wanted was more screaming, but she had no right to tell them that. The situation they were in now was incredibly appropriate for screaming.

"Let us go, you sick fuck!"

Breathing in calmly, Abby sat herself up in the cot and watched the doctor ignore the two women as he shuffled in front of them, double checking everything.

"Are you guys alright?" Abby questioned softly out of the corner of her lips.

Her eyes were locked on the screen ahead and she swallowed past the rough pain pushing down on her throat. A few days of not communicating verbally or hardly using her throat at all had left it itchy and sensitive.

Before either of them could reply, a new, high pitched voice broke the atmosphere. So new that all three women snapped their heads to the left and took in someone lying in the nearest cot to the stairs.

The man was of Asian heritage with short black hair sticking up from the sweat matted in it. He was slightly on the chubby side, but from the way he thrashed in his binds, Abby determined it wasn't a simple task kidnapping him.

And the worst part?

He didn't speak a lick of English.

For the next few minutes, the Asian man let out a steady stream of screeching insults in his native language. The only reason Abby was able to figure out he was Japanese was because he began a count down from three. Having memorized numbers one through ten in many different languages, Abby could only guess he was trying to negotiate his release.

But his threat was empty and the doctor paid no mind which only frustrated the man more.

"Aahhh!" he finally let out as agonizing drips of precipitation rolled down his back.

Jenny and Lindsey only shared terrified looks with each other, unsure whether anything they could say at this point would make a difference.

Meanwhile, Abby was slowly boiling. Not in the physical sense, but eternally, her body refused to cool down to a normal temperature. The unfair nature in which they'd all been tricked by someone who knew nothing about them, frustrated her to no end.

_How dare he take people out of their lives and use them for his own sick pleasures? They have done nothing wrong._

It was with this thought that the German man swung back into her mind. His senseless death and how his children would forever be without a father.

And boy did Abby know that pain personally.

So as Lindsey became livelier with her shrieks and the Japanese man as well as Jenny joined her, Abby studied her binds with deep concentration. There was always a flawed mistake that murderers took in caging their victims. The doctor's way was to keep them drugged, but surely he wasn't impeccable in every sense. In his excitement, he must have forgotten to do something that would ensure their containment.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Josef Heiter."

Abby's blood ran cold as her eyes glanced up and witnessed the doctor throw a sarcastic wink at his audience.

"We don't care who the fuck you are! Let us go!"

Heiter simply smiled, overlooking the outburst.

"I am a world renounced surgeon who specializes in the separation of Siamese twins."

With that he pressed down on the remote in his hand and all four individuals watched as the projector identified what appeared to be some of his successful procedures.

For those with weak stomachs like Jenny, the image was truly revolting. It had come directly post surgery with no time for the twins to have been cleaned up. But Abby believed that the doctor wanted the picture this way. It showed him the miracle of what he had done.

_Tune him out and look for a way to escape._

Against her better judgment, Abby pushed out his authoritative voice and instead focused back on her binds. However, it was a difficult conversation to keep her ears out of.

"-my 3 rottweilers-"

_He bound us as if he was afraid we'd run away in our sleep._

Tugging uselessly on her restraint, Abby narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was giving up, especially since her dad was a-.

"-shortly died after surgery-."

Lindsey's scream caught Abby off-guard but she dutifully went back to twisting her wrists within her binds. Perhaps somehow if she could slip her hand out or maybe find something sharp.

"-beautiful pet. Why not humans then?"

Another scream ripped through her friends' throats, only this one was shaky and immersed within fear.

_Like he's going to have a sharp utensil casually lying around here somewhere. C'mon. Something sharp, something sharp._

Staring puzzlingly at her bound wrist, Abby felt like smacking herself in the face.

_Of course! He may have tied us with material preventing us from slipping our arms out, but that rarely means the material is tough enough to withstand punctures. Or tears. _

"The Human Centipede."

Glancing up, Abby nearly recoiled at the image on the screen. And then her heart sank as she peered out of the corner of her eyes at Lindsey, Jenny, and the Japanese man. Tears poured down their cheeks in uncertain buckets as hoarse pleads whisked through their frightened mouths.

_Surgeon. Siamse twins. Human centipede? He's going to-._

A grotesque frown spilled over her features as Abby began to grasp on to just the reason why they'd been captured.

Glancing up at the screen again, Abby studied the picture and the points on the body in which he would operate on.

_They all have to have the same blood tissue...the Japanese man must since he's still alive._

Blinking once as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, Abby took away her glance and met Heiter's stare. It was directed only at her and his expression was set as if he could read her mind.

_He has no idea what to do with me either._

"Let them go," Abby heard herself finally protest. "If you let them go, I'll let you perform any type of surgery you want on me. You could attach my fingers to my forehead. Split my legs into angles. Cut open my diaphragm and stick something in there, I really don't care. Just...they don't deserve this."

She didn't know why her words seemed to amuse him because as soon as she'd spoken, he lifted the corner of his lips.

"And you deserve this?" he replied.

Abby fell silent, aware of the eyes on her from the side. They still had hope that she could somehow remedy the situation. That the disgusting, pervasive, and unethical treatment they were to undergo could be prevented.

"More than they do," Abby answered quietly, but enough so he could hear her.

This blasted a thoughtful look on Heiter's face for a moment.

"No."

His answer vibrated in finality over the confines of the room and three panicked groans expressed their hopeless dislike beside her.

Abby stared furiously back at the doctor, her teeth shutting firm on her tongue. She had to play this situation out wisely, if only to save them.

"Then what are you going to do with me? If you try to attach me to this...experiment, I'll die."

"You will not be a part of the experiment," he answered.

Taking in a deep breath, Abby bit down on her lip.

"Why are you doing this?"

It came out as a plead and was nearly unrecognizable to Abby's own ears. In fact, her voice came out like she was 8 years old again, standing in her basement, overlooking the dead body lying on an old gurney.

"I would have expected a more creative question from you," Heiter remarked.

Biting back a harsh reply, Abby felt her teeth grind at his answer. The same teeth she'd been planning to use in order to escape her binds.

"I expected a world renounced surgeon. You can't even keep three rottweilers alive," Abby spat back.

And the cold frown that emerged made Abby want to raise her hands in a silent victory.

"Do not worry, I'll try my best on your friends," Heiter vowed.

Lindsey unsuccessfully fought back a choke at his words.

"You won't touch them," Abby promised.

"We'll see in a few days," the doctor replied, approaching them.

The same syringe he'd been using for the past few days on them was revealed from a white coat pocket.

Renewing his screams, the Japanese man was the first receipient of the needle.

_I won't be able to live with myself if this happens to them. _

And when Heiter turned his way toward Jenny, Abby lowered her head down to her binds and began biting, a muddled plan forming in her panicked mind.

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><p><strong>Hmm...so in your mind, does Heiter's personality seem like how he'd actually act? In my mind, I say yes but I always like to push through something different just to make the character more interesting. Let me know what you're thinking in a review.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**I would just like to give a very special shout out to the-dark-poetess-911 whom gives some of the best reviews ever! You honestly make me keep on writing, along with Angel 1932. I hope you guys like this chapter and to answer your question darkpoetess, he is...NOT the father as Maury would so dramatically say. They have absolutely no relation, but Abby has one hell of a history behind her and we may or may not figure it out. So...enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 - Diabolical Duties<strong>

As Abby chewed viciously at her binds, attempting to undo one arm, a plan began to sprout. It wasn't genius by any means, but it would at least give Lindsey, Jenny, and the Japanese man a chance to escape. Or so she hoped.

What it involved was using a bit of self defense skills she'd learned along with attempting to remember just exactly which drug did what.

Because her mother worked in a pharmaceutical company, Abby was able to faintly recall a lot of the drugs she'd seen or learned about. One in particular she'd remembered had become rather popular at one time was called Modafinil and it was prescribed to those who had trouble waking up or staying vigilant. The drug went through numerous restrictions by the FDA because of its' constant abuse, but it worked just as well as speed and just as quickly.

There was no way Abby could accurately predict whether it would actually wake up her sedated friends. She didn't know what the doctor had used to make them pass out in the first place. It could have been liquified choloroform or Rohipnol once again or even something as simple as crushing Xanex into powdered pieces and then entering it into the syringe.

So many different choices had made Abby hesitant about the side effects of feeding her friends the drug. Hell, the doctor might not even have the drug.

But then again, Heiter seemed like the type of man to have the drugs on hand just from what she'd seen of his storage and his status. There were entire cupboards dedicated to countless liquified and sold medical drugs. She had to at least try in that sense.

With this plan settling itself hopefully in her head, Abby was able to hold on to the strap surrounding her wrist with the tips of her teeth and slide it toward her. This loosened the constriction and she was able to slip her left hand out.

Hurriedly, Abby threw her eyes toward Heiter and stilled as he stepped in between Lindsey and herself. His mind was preoccupied on his task and for this, Abby was eternally thankful. She had a horrible inkling that this might be the last time she'd see her friends' separated.

As soon as Heiter's form leaned over Lindsey, Abby turned to the opposite hand. Breathing in calmly so as not to indicate her dangerous actions, she bit on to the wrap and tugged.

_C'mon you bastard._

And just like that, her arm was tugged out of the binds. Two seconds later and she'd managed to unwrap the tape keeping her IV in.

Hearing Lindsey's scream, Abby stilled herself as Heiter injected the sedative.

In between soft pants, Abby began pushing herself up on to her elbows. The sweat cascading down her back only indicated how weak she really was from the drugs. Just as she was about to sit up, her muscles crumbled and she fell back into the bed.

Meanwhile, Lindsey's protests grew softer and softer.

_C'mon, one more time. Please, don't fail me now._

Abby gritted her teeth and pushed with a mix of core and elbow until she was in a firm sitting position. With nimble fingers, she swiftly released the binds on both of her legs.

Heiter's form straightened and Abby felt the beat of her heart racing a million miles per hour. However, she managed to spin her form so her legs were hanging off the cot only inches from the doctor.

It dawned on her right then and there that this would probably be the only chance she'd ever have to escape. And that thought shot such a frigid blast of fear to her heart she nearly choked.

So with this newfound survival instinct laying residence in her body, Abby prepared herself.

And for a horrifying moment Abby thought Heiter knew she'd escaped from her binds. Why else would he take so long to turn around?

But when he did, the surprise on his face was something Abby would have liked to take a picture of. Mouth open, eyes wide, jaw slack.

And while he took her unbound form in, Abby swung her fist forward and connected with his lower jaw.

The strength even took her by surprise as Heiter's form flew back into the trolley.

At this, Abby took the final jump and landed shakily on her legs.

She flung herself out of Heiter's grasp as he came back at her and with reflexes like a fox, kicked him as harshly as she could in the stomach.

Down he went and she wasted no time falling on top of him. A choked gasp flew from his lips as her form landed on his stomach. Her hands immediately went to his throat.

Heiter thrashed underneath her, eyes bugging as she increased pressure on to his throat. As much as he did try to throw her off, Abby felt her body's sluggishness and found it aiding her as it held the man down like an anchor.

It was when Abby had managed to hold on for eight seconds straight that Heiter's clawing at her arms began to lighten up. Three more seconds, with the pressure on his throat increased each second, Heiter finally managed to blink lazily before five more seconds had his head fall back with a thud on to the cold floor.

Abby's body was shaking as her hands refused to unclench from their position around his throat. Anytime she believed he'd come back up at her. But a few seconds passed by and the man still laid unconscious.

_The others._

Pushing herself hesitantly off the floor Abby made sure not to stare at the doctor for too long. Even his unconscious form seemed threatening.

Instead, she dragged her body toward Lindsey's bed and placed a shaky, sweaty palm on her cheek.

For a second, Abby's brain refused to work. All she could do was stare helplessly down at her friend. Every detail of her plan threatened to disappear within the recess of her mind.

_Snap out of it. Snap out of it!_

Shaking her head, Abby's eyes trailed down the length of Lindsey's arm. All the while, her brain tried to insert the same surviving instinct that had caused her to choke their attacker into unconsciousness.

The Modafinil!

Twirling around, she studied the rows of medication the doctor had displayed on the opposite side of the room and nearly gave up at the thought of looking through each case.

_Mom said that a good doctor has them alphabetized._

Ignoring the bile rising through her Abby shuffled to the medicine cabinets. Her eyes scanned over medications until to her great relief, they began in alphabetical order.

Her fingers slipped swiftly over the packages and boxes until the M's caught her focus.

She inhaled deeply and read off in her mind the different medicines. Some were distinctly German while others were internationally well known.

And when her fingers found the Modafinil, Abby nearly teared up. But, she remembered that time was of the essence and the doctor might wake up at any time.

Grabbing the box, she tore it open and smiled at the yellow, oval pills.

Keeping her hands steady Abby took one out, found a surgical steel knife and placed it firmly atop the pill. Slamming it five times over the pill finally caused its' recession into powder.

Scanning the perimeter, she searched above her and threw open two doors to a glass cabinet. Inside were packaged syringes.

As she worked on liquefying the drug she attempted not to think too much about the man behind on the floor.

_He could be waking up right about now._

Biting harshly down on her lip Abby willed these thoughts to leave her. If they stayed, there was no way they could leave this place alive.

In minutes, the Modafinil was liquefied and Abby shuffled back to Lindsey's bed.

Holding the IV as carefully as she could, a silent prayer entered her head. Before she could hesitate she stuck the needle in and ran back to the other side of the room.

For ten minutes straight, Abby followed a strict pattern of crushing the Modafinil, forcing the pieces into the syringe, adding the briefest amount of water in before sliding the needle part into place.

It was when Abby shuffled over to inject the Japanese man did Lindsey begin to stir.

"Uhhhh."

Pushing the remainder of the drug into the IV, Abby drifted her gaze to Lindsey's slightly active body.

_Oh yes...thank you for working!_

Rushing back to the medicine counter, Abby threw the syringe down and gathered a cloth. She wetted it under the cool water coming from the sink and was just about to rush to her friend's side when something caught her eye.

_You never know...this might not work out. Where would I be after that?_

Abby attempted to ignore this thought but before she knew it, her fingers grabbed the bottle and slipped it into the hip band of her underwear.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"Abby?" Lindsey gingerly whispered.

"Shh," she cooed, running the cold cloth over her forehead.

"I can't-."

"I know it's going to be tough, but you have to try. If you don't try, you will face a fate worse than death," Abby stated.

Lindsey recalled the doctor's mad use for them and nodded her head aggressively.

Squeezing her hand assuredly Abby ran to Jenny's cot and gracefully slid out the IV. Slicing through the binds, Abby positioned Jenny as carefully as she could so that she'd be able to steady herself on both elbows. She then repeated the same patting motions over her forehead until her eyes began to open.

Rushing over one last time, Abby gently applied the cloth to the Japanese man's face, praying he'd feel the change in body temperature. If he didn't...

_I am not leaving him to that kind of fate._

In the meantime, her eyes kept trailing over to the doctor's form on the ground.

_I should just kill him._

But this thought was firmly denied for a reason far too engraved within her to comprehend. She would not be a killer like her-.

"Argh!"

Jumping, Abby spun around and watched the Japanese man's eyes open in confusion.

Just as he was about to begin another screech Abby threw her palm over his mouth and put a finger up to her lips. Gesturing her head behind she allowed him to see the doctor's form on the ground.

Once more she put her finger to her lips and nodded.

The man nodded back and allowed her to help him push up into a sitting position.

"We have to get out of here," Lindsey whispered as she slipped Jenny's stumbling form off the cot.

Abby was about to agree when a fearful thought struck her.

Facing Lindsey, Abby remarked, "He has the keys to the front door and probably his car."

"Shit," Lindsey sputtered, glancing at Heiter's form.

They then met each other's eyes and Abby nodded her head in affirmation.

"Alright, I'll do it. You get upstairs and help this guy too. Wait for me at the front door."

Lindsey's answer was a nod as she momentarily let go of Jenny's balancing form and instead, walked over and took one of the Japanese man's arms, letting it fall over her shoulder.

Jenny watched in confusion but ventured a few steps forward on steady feet.

"Grab his other arm and get upstairs," Abby softly commanded.

"What are you going to do?" she slurred out.

"I'm getting the keys."

APHAPHAPHAPH

_Please don't wake up._

That was the only thought soaring through Abby's mind as her hands traveled into Heiter's white lab coat. No keys were in either pocket, but she checked his pants only to discover one set of keys she determined to belong to his car.

Upon further inspection however, those were the only keys she found on him.

_Damn it, he doesn't have the house keys._

Blowing a dejected sigh, Abby stood up and backed away. But as she did so, her leg accidentally brushed against his and to her horror, his leg reacted to the touch.

_He's waking up._

Smothering the keys into her palm Abby wasted no time as her legs carried her out of the hospital room and up the stairs, hoping it'd be the last time she'd ever see the place.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"Lindsey? Jenny?" Abby questioned into the open hallway.

The front hallway was vacant however.

"Abby!"

Jumping up in her place Abby placed a hand to her heart as Jenny's form peeked out of one room.

"We've almost broken through the glass with a pan we found in the kitchen," she answered, moving into the room.

The sound of metal smashing into glass increased the closer Abby got to the room. But then she remembered what happened down stairs.

So before Jenny could enter the room, Abby pulled at her arm and faced her.

"Don't panic, but Heiter is waking up."

Jenny's eyes widened and her body tried to pull free of Abby's grip.

"NO," Abby commanded, "please, you have to listen to what I say if you want to survive. He's going to come up here, but you will have the keys."

With this, Abby pried one of Jenny's hands open and placed the keys within her palm.

"What about you?" she whispered out.

"I'm going to distract him. I'll go one way and that should buy you guys enough time to-."

"You're not going to make it," she noted solemnly.

Abby nodded her head. The need to cry was there, but no tears formed.

"No, I'm not. But that's alright because I've got my own little plan B for that. But as soon as you get inside that car, I want you to get the hell out. Don't wait for me, don't try to come back, don't even think about doing something noble. This is where your flight instinct is at its' greatest so please, take advantage of it."

Jenny nodded her head as tears slid down her cheeks.

"Now go," Abby demanded.

Sniffing, Jenny studied Abby one last time.

"I-thank you so much," she sobbed.

And with one last squeeze of Abby's hands, Jenny turned around and sprinted into the room behind her. When the final sound of glass smashing reached Abby's ears in the hallway, she knew it was time.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Abby watched Heiter's form stumble up the stairs. Only three minutes ago the trio had smashed through the glass door and were hopefully in the car by now.

The doctor's eyes searched that way, but before he could take a step in that direction, Abby kicked a glass cup at her feet.

The clamor alerted the doctor to her presence and with a look of false surprise, Abby took off in the opposite direction of her friends with the doctor following soon after.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"Let me in!" he yelled, one fist slamming against the door.

Abby slithered further into the room. There were no windows inside of it and the walls were thin enough for her to have heard the start of the engine. But just barely because Heiter's bangs against the door nearly blocked them out.

_At least they'll be safe._

Another slam against the door caused a crack to trail down and it was at this moment that Abby reached under her gown and pulled out the bottle she'd stashed there.

Observing the liquid, she sighed.

Three months ago and she would never have imagined what she'd be doing right now. Still, life has that strange way of creeping up on you and sometimes actions are taken out of your hands.

A piece of wood splintered off the door and scurried across the floor. It landed near her feet.

All the things she'd wanted to do, not just in Germany but in life, came crashing down as she uncapped the bottle.

_I'll never be able to find out what happened to dad. Or get married. Or have my own little cottage in Europe. Screw that. If I get the chance, I'm never coming back to this country again._

But it wasn't the country's fault. Simply one man possessed by the idea.

Toasting to the dimly lit room, Abby lifted the bottle to her lips and smelled.

_That's ghastly._

Closing her eyes Abby tilted her head back and swallowed the bottle of opium. The bottle she'd taken would be just strong enough, just enough in quantity to kill her. And that, she reasoned, was a better fate than anything this madman had to offer.

30 seconds later, Heiter finally broke down the door and found Abby slowly retreating into her own piece of mind with the empty bottle resting nonchalantly in her hand. He cursed violently in German and somewhere further away, Abby heard the words and smiled in victory.

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><p><strong>I was tempted just to end it there...and maybe some of you want me to, but I do have more up my sleeve. Let me know what you're thinking in a review :).<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you as always for the reviews. I honestly think that they are some of the best I've ever gotten as a writer, period. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And now I have decided to keep on moving and I hope the rest makes sense. Things in italics are flashbacks and Abby won't quite be herself for a few chapters what with working the opium out of her system which causes an extraordinary high as drugs do, but also an incredible period of dependency on the drug. I'm sure I don't quite have all the side effects of the drug down, but these I'm simply playing around with two effects I know are there. Which means more fun for me...anywho, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 - Endless Entertainment<strong>

_"Where's dad?"_

_Abby's only reply was a disapproving glance from her mother._

_Five minutes passed by agonizingly slow and Abby stopped picking at her food._

_"Where's Berlin?"_

_Her mother remained tight lipped, but a slow breath flew through her lips._

_"Abby, eat the rest of your chicken."_

_Abby nodded her head, but she felt no appetite. It'd been three months since her dad left and only frustration built in when her mom refused to say anything about his whereabouts. Although 10 years old, she still deserved a right to know why dad wasn't coming back._

_"Is he coming back?"_

_"That is enough Abby!" her mother screamed, slapping her palm on the table._

_Stilling, Abby flushed red as her mom stood up and left the kitchen._

APHAPHAPHAPH

A bright flash slipped underneath her eyelids as a small moan flew out her lips.

There was no sense of feeling in her entire body, but Abby was aware of movement around her.

"Dummes madchen, dumm."

"Dad?" Abby questioned aloud, the plea breaking through her numb lips.

The movement around her stopped. Suddenly, Abby felt a cool touch run across her neck. It sauntered up until her forehead met the same touch.

A satisfied smile reached Abby's lips as the light beneath her lids slipped further away.

APHAPHAPHAPH

_"How's Labyrintha today?"_

_"I don't like that nickname."_

_Her dad laughed, throwing a hand over one sagging shoulder._

_"Cheer up Labyrintha. Do you want to see something neat?"_

_Abby shook her head lethargically. Her solemn green gaze traveled over their sparse back yard. The few beautiful elegant trees danced in the autumn wind as the grass tickled her swinging feet over the deck._

_"Mom says you shouldn't be showing me that kind of stuff," Abby answered in a low voice._

_"Ahh," her dad observed, studying the scenery as well. "Guess she has a point. But you gotta admit, it's pretty cool, huh?"_

_Abby shrugged her shoulders indifferently._

_"I don't know. I don't like the way they look at me," she admitted._

_"Then," her father answered, mouth lingering near her ear, "I promise to make sure their eyes are closed next time you see them."_

_Smiling, Abby allowed her father's hand to lead away from the house and toward the warehouse._

APHAPHAPHAPH

This time Abby awoke with a shock and nearly passed out again from the pain. Cramps shook her stomach as her eyes attempted to shake off the white appearing before her.

Something tried to fly past her throat, but it was shut out with a raw pang.

Her breathing increased severely as a shaking enveloped from head to toe.

"Calm yourself," a voice commanded.

Abby's vision still prevented total sight, and the voice only made it that much more difficult not to scream.

Hands pressed softly down on her shoulders and the voice gave the same command, only calmer this time.

Just the change in voice caused Abby to slow her breaths to a delicate whimper.

"Ca-ca-," she tried to explain, but her throat closed up.

"Relax."

Abby's mind couldn't pin point just exactly who this voice belonged to, but she listened wisely. In between the internal, hellish cramps striking her stomach and the feverish flash running over her body, Abby wanted to submit back into slumber.

Somehow, memories were pouring out that she hadn't remembered having. The small spat with her mom was something she was aware had happened, but she'd nearly forgotten all about her dad's nickname for her. The deeper in slumber she resided, the more came back to her.

And so she forced herself to detach her body away from the pain with a cetain excitement and soon after, a dizzy spell encumbered her.

APHAPHAPHAPH

_"Don't worry, he isn't looking, Labyrintha."_

_Abby hesitated, but a timid hand hovered over the form._

_"He's going to be alright, isn't he?" she softly asked._

_"Of course," her dad smoothly replied from behind, "just taking a small nap."_

_"Okay."_

_Her small hand lowered until it met the cold skin of the man lying on the gurney._

_"What does it feel like, Labyrintha?"_

_Grazing the skin, her nails trailed over the skin carefully._

_"It feels cold."_

_"What else?"_

_Crinkling her nose, Abby allowed her palm to replace the trailing._

_"There is some warm at first touch. But the cold is too much. The skin is very smooth."_

_"Good," her dad mumbled, stepping beside her. "And if the skin was recently warm, what does that mean?"_

_The words wanted to spring through her throat, but Abby kept silent. _

_"Don't be shy, Labyrintha. You know he's only pretending so I can help teach you some stuff."_

_"I know," she whispered, "but his body is colder than anyone else's I've ever felt."_

_"I'm sorry for that. But you are going to have to learn some things when I'm go-."_

_Abby's head snapped around, her green eyes widening into two child-like ovals._

_"You're leaving?"_

_Her dad smiled, shaking his head._

_"Never, Labyirntha. When I go on vacation, I want to make sure you remember everything I taught you."_

_"Can't I go on vacation with you?"_

_"Not this time. But I promise when I come back, I'll hug you till you're blue."_

_Accepting this answer, Abby's glance found the body again with a sigh._

_"He was recently breathing, but his pulse stopped. That means he has no blood that can flow through him because his brain also stopped. But dad," Abby began, turning toward him, "you'll revive him like you do all the other patients, right?"_

_"Absolutely, Labyrintha. Now, let's get you something to eat."_

_Abby happily nodded, grabbing his hand._

APHAPHAPHAPH

When Abby was first able to open her eyes, one thought reached her.

_White is such a boring wall color._

The fact that she was alive reached her three minutes later, but was greatly overshadowed by the fact she couldn't move. There were no restraints on her, but from head to toe it felt like she weighed two tons heavier than her actual body weight.

Her surroundings sauntered back into her mind a few minutes after and one good thing did come of the observation.

_At least I'm not in the basement._

But this thought reminded her why she was there in the first place.

So with words jumbled in mind, Abby prepared herself to scream.

But, she had no idea who or what to scream out.

Instead, she closed her eyes and attempted to make sense of all the flashbacks suddenly easing back into the forefront of her subconscious.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"How did you get the opium out?"

The question lingered eerily between the two and was the first spoken words ever since Heiter had entered the room a day later.

Abby had been casually battling with herself on her mindless actions as a child when the doctor had walked in. In his hand he had another needle and she had briefly hoped it would be to help put some movement back into her muscles. She couldn't move a limb if she tried.

But he wasn't prepared to see her awake and simply stood across the room, frowning.

And although Abby had a million questions flying through her arsenal that needed to be answered, only one slipped out.

"Oh my gosh," Abby reprimanded after his silence, "I'm such an idiot. Hello, you're a surgeon."

Her words left her with a laugh and a giddy feeling began rising inside.

"Your system will have to work out the opium," he noted, observing the same effects currently overthrowing Abby's mind.

The smile Abby sported only grew as her mind began to fog. Somewhere deep inside of her she understood just exactly what was happening. He hadn't pumped the opium out because she hadn't drank enough to kill herself. Measuring fluid ounces was always her weakness.

But this meant that the opium was still coursing through her body and that explained the muscle spasms as well as the high she was currently experiencing. Her body was high on the large amount of opium she'd taken in and in fear of a shut down, her brain paralyzed the muscles. This in turn only left her able to function mentally which was just as wired as the rest of her.

These understandings were quickly replaced with a drunken suptor.

"Keep the opium coming," Abby demanded lightly.

Heiter began to approach, but Abby's eyes slowly shut and her body soon followed.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"This will help easily stimulate the muscle's functions."

Abby's eyes lazily followed Heiter's movements as he plunged the needle deep into her vein.

A giggle spilled out.

A confused scrunch of the eyebrows met her eyes.

"What can I say," she slurred, "I'm a masochist."

Heiter said nothing and instead, stood up.

"I will give you your lunch in an hour."

Abby watched him leave with another laugh. It was like a never ending gas had spilled into her mind, not allowing her to see logic.

"See ya later, Schwarzenegger."

APHAPHAPHAPH

Abby woke up later in the evening or what she guessed to be the evening, feeling absolutely horrible. For the past two weeks, and she'd only known it'd been two weeks because of Heiter's wardrobe having changed each day, the opium had been assaulting her system.

Initially it had been gentle in perfecting a high Abby hadn't ever experienced, as she knew it would. Each day, Heiter would inject her with a muscle stimulant, but it was far from a true stimulant. On good days, she could perhaps lift her arms. Otherwise, a wiggle of a limb was her best means of communicating.

Not that she wanted to communicate with him, or so she told herself in her dreams that had been oddly disposed of the childhood flashbacks she'd been accustomed to having. But each time she awoke, the opium had time to mess with her mind and she became a woman possessed.

The doctor never even stayed in the room long, but each time was a struggle for her to bite back words.

For example, some time last week Heiter had came in with dinner for her. She was allowed breakfast of toast and eggs, lunch of a grilled cheese and apple, and dinner of steak he cooked her with potatoes. It was incredibly lucky that she loved all of those foods.

Once he had placed the food down next to him, he began his usual routine of slipping gloves on. Abby wasn't sure whether it was for her benefit or his.

However, this appreciation was overshadowed by her next thought which was unfortunately, spoken out loud.

"You know that my dad," Abby began assuredly, "will kill you if he finds out I've been kidnapped."

Heiter had been cutting the steak into pieces when her words reached him.

"Of course he will," he muttered slowly.

Abby had really struggled to bite back her next words, but something lifted off her chest and the words simply flew out. Plus, the superiority in his tone bothered her too.

"My dad was a serial killer."

And although her mind panicked slightly at divulging the information, a grin set itself on to her lips.

Heiter had actually paused in his slicing to take a long look at her.

Abby had merely stared back with her grin becoming wider and wider until there was no way he couldn't have believed her statement.

Whether he actually did believe her or not, he never indicated.

Instead, he repeated his earlier words.

"Of course he is."

And Abby had struggled to keep in her words rather avidly from then on. There were some things in her mind that she wanted to keep secret until she reached her grave.

What she really wanted to ask was why he decided on keeping her in a room instead of the basement. She wanted to know why he appeared indifferent toward the fact that three escapees would tell the authorities of his whereabouts. And the biggest thing she wanted to know was why he was making the effort of keeping her alive.

But of course she never commented on any of the logical issues flying around in her subconscious. Quite simply, if something was on her mind, she'd let it out no matter how silly it was. And save for a few embarrassing personal details having to do with a few former boyfriends of hers, Abby had otherwise kept up a wall between the important and unimportant stuff running around in her mind.

Still, when she woke up that evening, Abby would have divulged any sort of information to make the pain stop that was cramping up in her body. The cramps had been irregular and few over the two weeks, but their brutal arrival indicated the disappearance of the high which had so happily kept her amused for the past two weeks. Now, the painful part was beginning.

Fighting back her need to vomit Abby struggled to roll herself on to her side. And she succeeded.

However, her reward was the release of her dinner over the edge of the bed and a returning need to allow sleep back into her body. And so she did.

APHAPHAPHAPH

_Abby knew she wasn't supposed to watch her parents fighting. Nor hear it. Her parents had told her that if she ever heard them beginning to fight, she was to leave the room or surrounding area immediately and go far enough to where she couldn't hear them._

_But her dad had been acting strange lately and she'd been having more lessons with him in the warehouse than usual. Sometimes she'd catch a regretful twinkle in his eye that had caused her heart to numb._

_She never wanted him to leave._

_And so when the fighting began, instead of leaving the area, she had crept near a vent connected to her parents' bedroom. Their shouts were loud and clear._

_"If the police ever find out-."_

_"They won't," her dad insisted. _

_"You are so sure of yourself that you are willing to put your daughter and I through hell."_

_"Labyrintha is smart enough to-."_

_"And for God's sake, stop calling her that!"_

_A pause greeted Abby's ears as she scooted closer._

_"I'll be gone to Berlin for a month, tops. You have nothing to worry about, I promise."_

_"Except the bodi-."_

_"Alice, you have nothing to worry about, alright?"_

_Her mother must have relented because their voices died down soon after._

APHAPHAPHAPH

This flashback turned dream had been quite common in Abby's subconscious, but as it gradually disappeared, an unfamiliar one replaced it.

APHAPHAPHAPH

_Abby had been allowed to finally invite the neighborhood kids over to play and they were currently running through the house, trying to find a spot to hide. _

_She absolutely loved hide and seek, but her parents had to remind her constantly to keep the game inside the house. If anyone was to go outside, they'd be sent home._

_It was obvious to her that her parents didn't want the other kids to participate in the lessons she was having at the warehouse, so Abby had been firm in her demands._

_However, as she was flying through the air, she'd tripped and slammed her hip into a nearby coffee table._

_The phone that had been hanging off it, fell to the ground with a thud and met Abby's vantage point as she struggled to keep from crying. Her hip pounded intensely and the need to lie there indefinitely was incredibly tempting._

_The phone's hanger was near her feet and the corded receiver nakedly rested beside her ear. It was her father's voice coming through the other end which caused her to bite back her tears and move her ear to the phone._

_"-sure you're coming?"_

_"Yes. Alice packed my bags and I've already said goodbye to my girl. Where is Steffan meeting me?"_

_"At your hotel once you land. Just remember that he's going to have a lot of questions. He's a good guy from what I've heard, but you know what they say."_

_"Never trust a German?"_

_"Exactly. Especially in a country where communism just fell."_

_"He won't have me stay for more than a month, right?"_

_"You never know with these things. The guy is smart and he's not going to let you off the hook when he's got dirt on you."_

_"Fucking Germans."_

_"I'll drink to that."_

_"Keep me posted and I'll see you once you get to the airport."_

_"Got it. See ya there."_

_The phone soon began a drawn out beep and shaking herself off, Abby stood with the phone and hanger. Placing one atop the other, she quickly pondered on the information. But the sound of Billy's triumphant yell of 100 caused her to file the information back within her mind. She'd have time to pick at it later._

_And so she began her run, unaware that the information would come back to her not a few days later, but years in a far more serious situation than hide and seek._

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><p><strong>So I'm hoping you're all alright with the whole flashbacks during sleep scenario. I know that one of any drug's side effects, especially the heavy ones like opium, is regaining memory or flashbacks, usually during the proceedings. I feel like I may have rushed the chapter a bit, but I'm just trying not to reveal too much about either character and settling the situation down. Let me know what you're thinking in a review ;).<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for the review, Angel1932. I'm taking this part slowly only because the recovery isn't going to go away just like that. But, I want to make it interesting of course. So I hope you and whoever is reading this chapter (guiltily I assume since I've only got 2 story alerts), enjoys this next chapter that I very much enjoyed writing.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 - Feeling Fire<strong>

"How is the cramping today?"

Abby studiously ignored the question. One part of her was genuinely surprised he'd asked while the other just wanted to tell him to fuck off.

Then again, he fed her and tried to neutralize the pain as best as he could.

_Don't think about it that way. I should not be thankful because he feeds me and takes care of me like a pet. That's how the brain begins to crumble. When we allow ourselves to be thankful that our captor is keeping us alive._

Still, Abby felt like she owed him some words. He could have killed her a thousand times already for causing his patients to escape.

"If I answer your question," Abby began, wincing as another teeth chattering cramp ignited within her, "then you have to answer one of mine."

Silence met her ears and Abby was tempted to turn over just to see his expression. But all of the moving about would only intensify the pain stirring inside her and although her muscles had become looser over the past two days, she still couldn't manage a rollover without choking at the pain.

After a few lingering minutes, Abby listened to Heiter's feet shuffle to the door. Once it was shut, she cursed at the room.

Her curse was directed toward her situation and the pain tearing up inside her. It was excruciating. Each breath felt like a slice into her kidneys.

_Perhaps I should have reconsidered plan B._

But there truly was no alternative. If she hadn't distracted Heiter he would have gone after her friends. And the rage he was in once she'd managed to lock herself in one of the many rooms would have sentenced her to death most certainly. Why else would he keep her alive when his patients were gone?

Yet, he'd done it again. Carrying her to a room, bringing her food, putting up with the stages of the offensive drug. Worse yet was that she felt indebted to him for it. Like she owed him a thanks. It was ridiculous of course, but she was ridiculous enough to love her father despite everything he'd done. And she'd only discovered that the lessons shared between the two in her muddled childhood weren't really the type typical of a father-daughter relationship.

_Why did he do it?_

Now, it was time to decipher her own father.

For some time Abby had thought she had him figured out. He shared the same murderous gene as John Wayne Gacy Jr or Ted Bundy. His charm allowed him to be anyone he wanted.

But beneath his charm, he hid a secret. And he had a wife who loved him enough not to say a word, coping in her own self destructive way - prescription drugs.

_I was only 10._

Again, Abby believed her father had known the fragile and naive child psyche. If he put on his charm and managed to make her believe that his victims were nothing more than props in the lessons he shared with her, then Abby would wholeheartedly believe it. At such a young age, she couldn't comprehend that the man who swung her up in the air, tucked her into bed, went to the movies with, was actually a serial killer. To believe that would shatter her. That was something her mother understood more than perhaps her father. So the lessons were far and few in between, but toward his vacation, they'd increased for a short time.

_He must have known somewhere inside that he might not return._

This time she pondered back on the last flashback witnessed. The game of hide and seek she'd so casually brushed off and the information learned, sunk into her mind like quicksand.

And out of all the times to have remembered this information, it just had to be under the supervision of a mad surgeon whose own intentions were unclear.

_I sure know how to attract them._

APHAPHAPHAPH

"You rolled over."

Abby glared at Heiter for a second before grabbing the apple.

"If you put a leash on me and start petting my head, I might do more," she bitterly replied.

A part of her winced at the hate in her voice. Rolling herself over had been more painful than she'd realized it would be. The pain in turn, fled through her voice.

"I simply meant it must have taken a great deal of strength," he noted.

Pausing in her bite Abby met Heiter's stare and shrugged.

"It'd be nice to have the sun shine in here," Abby casually let out after a few minutes of munching.

"No windows," he stated firmly.

"Big house," she indicated.

"No."

"Bastard."

They both paused at the last word and Abby blushed.

"I meant to keep that in my head," she explained.

Heiter said nothing more until she'd successfully eaten the grilled cheese sandwich. Just as he was ready to leave her for another five hours he stopped in his tracks.

"Are you aware of the stages in recovering from drugs?"

Abby nodded.

"Then you are aware of what comes after the pain, yes?"

"Of course," she answered matter of factly. "But what does withdrawal have to do with anything?"

Heiter's gaze trailed to the opposite wall.

"Complete solitude will be needed when the dependence hits you."

Abby's eyes widened as she followed Heiter's gaze.

"Oh."

"No windows," he responded, leaving the room quietly.

"No windows," Abby repeated, lost in thought.

APHAPHAPHAPH

A week passed by before Abby began to feel the first signs of dependence. It came in subtle at first, telling her how much better opium would be instead of the food Heiter was feeding her. She brushed this off, understanding the mindless plead as nothing but the drugs talking.

However, all that was needed to let the drugs begin screaming rather than talking was anger. Abby had thought she'd done a fair job of containing said anger. In small ways, life was beginning to get better. Her legs were becoming more mobile each day, although she never let Heiter know this. All of the questions she wished to vocalize began to emerge in their own silent ways to her. The flashbacks were still minimal, but it allowed her much more time to reflect on her real feelings toward her father.

Yes, anger was surprisingly distant from her as she recognized there were much stronger emotions inside of her. Once much more useful.

The anger however, couldn't be prevented and neither could the thoughts a week after Heiter had the window discussion with her.

It started out innocently enough, or so she believed. Just one simple request.

"Can I take a shower?"

Heiter actually spilled the orange juice he'd carried in and cursed at the mess.

Abby waited patiently until he'd cleaned up the mess before asking the question again.

"No."

"What a surprise," she muttered as she picked at the eggs.

Today however, something was stirring inside her. Something that told her she'd been complacent for far too long. That she hadn't fought back and the power was gradually shifting in his direction.

So after a few short seconds, Abby asked, "Is no your favorite word?"

The doctor said nothing, but a hand trailed back to his head and Abby understood just in that common little gesture, the nervousness she'd ignited in him. She wasn't sure whether this spawned from her asking him personal questions, or the question itself, but a part of her felt it was time to follow it with guns ablaze.

"You let me go to the bathroom by myself," Abby pointed out, "a shower isn't that much different. Actually, I think my stink is starting to stink. Pretty soon, your entire house will start smelling like a stinky American until it consumes your yard and then eventually the neighbors will start to smell it and think you threw someone into the oven and poured mustard on them-."

"No."

The one word sliced through the optimistic tone Abby had, but she was determined not to let that word erase the need to pursue an answer.

So she tried a different approach.

"I could shower with you."

And although it was meant to be a joke, a red blush traveled up Heiter's cheeks so quickly that Abby let out a loud chortle. She kept on laughing as he stood up and took the tray off her form.

Just as she thought her words had scared him out the door, he paused.

"Do you not remember what I did to your friends? What I did to the man you first woke up next to?"

Abby's smiled disappeared immediately as she observed Heiter's still form. His words had come out harsh, as if he'd long debated the question himself, but did not care for any of the answers he'd gotten.

"I try not to think about that," Abby admitted.

"Why? A girl like you does not simply overlook such acts."

Silence filled the room as Abby grappled inside her mind on what to say.

"When a man like my father," she began, "raises a girl like me, thoughts are bound to be a bit different. I still remember what you did, what you wanted to do and a part of me cannot wait until the day you become distracted and the knife you use to cut the steak ends up in my hand, but I was born with an irritating patience and through the experiences I've been through, my sense of judgment has decreased while my ability to overlook things, increased. My perception of the world is off."

She didn't know what she expected him to do or say, but when he turned around with hate chipped into his features, Abby held her breath. His emotions had been so stable around her for the past three weeks and to see such sudden hate made her weary.

"If you live by such stupidity, it does not surprise me that you fell into a situation such as this. I pity the way your parents raised you."

Abby's jaw dropped open. A long forgotten sensitivity stirred at the cutthroat words it received. Her one fist clenched while another remained open and brushed against something hard.

Feeling the object beside her Abby returned Heiter's gaze, the frustration only building the longer he stayed in the room.

_My parents did the best they could to raise me! He does not know enough about me to assume that being compassionate is a weakness. I'm going to-._

Gripping the empty glass he'd forgotten to pick up, Abby focused all the strength into her left arm. Just as he was about to turn away, Abby whipped the cup at his head.

"Bastard!" she yelled as he ducked the object and watched it smash into a million tiny pieces against the door.

Her body heat shot up as a vein noticeably stuck out in her neck. Throbbing from the sudden usage of muscle, her arm laid limply by her side. The need to punch or throttle something was immense and when Heiter's smile appeared, Abby only wanted to have another chance at throwing the cup.

"Is bastard your favorite word?" he mumbled, loud enough just to make sure she heard it.

Knowing she was still too weak to chase and rearrange his face, Abby gritted her teeth and flipped him off.

And with those actions, a part of her opened up, becoming susceptible to the nagging voice of dependency in her head. She understood that while anger was an incredibly weak emotion, it was also a very destructive one. Addiction was destructive and having managed to open this wound caused her to shift from anger into want.

Besides wanting to kill the doctor a thousand times over, the primary want became opium.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Later in the evening, Heiter entered the room with a pan and broom. He knelt on the floor and began sweeping up the glass.

Abby on the other hand, tightened her entire body. A brand new pain infected her, emerging not from her stomach but from her mind. About an hour ago, some sweats began. Sweats partly from the need to have something that would cause a high and partly from trying to use her legs to leave the bed to potentially find that high. She'd almost made it out of the bed, but the adrenaline had deserted her just as she was in the middle of taking the first step. So back down she went.

When Heiter informed her about dinner being an hour later, Abby hardly heard. A determination throbbed inside of her. A craving she knew would only cause her to spill out the dinner he promised.

Curling, Abby's hands dug into the sheets as the need intensified.

_I don't need it. It's just a drug._

Her body fought in protest, causing a slight shake to speed through her limbs. Involuntarily, Abby remembered what it was like to have allowed the opium to invade. To have no limitations and all the freedom in the world. Freedom from logic, freedom from responsibilities. A freedom so immense it transported her away to where she wasn't stuck in a bed, in a house, in a country. She was free, free, free.

_Please don't let me do something stupid. If I survive this stage, I only have to worry about it leaving my system._

This was the last reasonable thought she shared with herself before the need for opium clouded everything else.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm only going to divulge this piece of information...it's about to get interesting. And there was a reason Heiter mocked Abby on her lifestyle (give it a shot if you think you know why). I purposely leave out the personal thoughts Abby has with herself on the flashbacks and her ideas because I may hint at them or have them be revealed later in the story. So, till then, hope you like. Let me know what you're thinking in a review ;).<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks both of you guys for your reviews. And thanks for giving a guess to the question because it's probably not one I'm going to address later on in the story. The reason Heiter snapped at Abby like that was because...he was confused as to why she was able to overlook everything he'd done to her up to that point. He knew he'd caused her terror, yet she still conversed with him normally. It almost unnerves him because he talks to her back and perhaps this type of communication isn't something he's used to. Which gets me to ask another question I'm kind of concerned about...is my dialogue good? I have a problem with it and that it's not interesting enough or isn't relaying the emotions I want it to. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this next chapter which I suppose is more interesting in my mind rather than yours because I'm picturing it happening and kind of going :O. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 - Going Gray<strong>

"Eat."

The command was simple, but ineffective.

"EAT."

This time force was added, but Abby kept her lips tight. Her stomach had been growling all day and as evening approached, Abby fell further back into her subconscious. She argued constantly within herself, intent on not getting food unless some opium entered her body. Of course she never voiced this out loud because hell would freeze over the day she asked Heiter for something. But she could not deny how fierce the temptation was.

"If you do not eat, I will force you."

Abby nearly lashed out at him, but the cogs in her mind churned.

"If I eat," Abby began levelly, "my body will push it back out. I thought a doctor was supposed to know that."

The last part came out aggressive, but compared to how needy Abby actually was at the moment, it sounded fair to her ears.

"I am a surgeon," he corrected.

"And I'm the Queen of England, but you don't see me flaunting my status," Abby sarcastically bit out.

Heiter stood with tray in hand. Abby risked a glance at him, but a pang hit her as she did. Just staring at the man who was close enough to give her what she wanted, brought enough pain.

Still, indecision washed over his face as he pondered the problem. Abby guessed he was torn between threatening her again and handling her little problem.

"Can't you just-," Abby choked out, her arms falling to her side. Her eyes screwed shut as sweat stormed down her back.

"Just-a little bit. An ounce."

Heiter studied her and if Abby wasn't in such a lucid state, she'd have called him out on the pity that briefly fluttered over his features.

Instead, said pity caused Abby to push herself up.

"My mom worked in a pharmacy for 13 years. It took her that long to finally succumb to her addiction. What's the harm of just an ounce?"

And the needier her tone became, the more Abby began to believe herself.

_Snap out of it!_

Finally, Heiter's lips turned up. In return, Abby's did the same.

_He's finally seeing reason._

"To think once I thought you of equal intelligence."

Abby's eyes widened as her heart picked up.

"And to think I didn't kill you when I had the chance!" she yelled back.

Her brain urged her feet to move and attack him, but the logical part held back.

Yet, the comment hit with an unprecedented fury.

"I think death would have been more honorable than to watch you grovel."

And before Abby knew what she was doing her hand pushed down on the bed and lifted her form out. By the time her eyes lifted up, Heiter had retreated to the door.

Staggering slightly, Abby straightened herself and observed the man with shakes breaking her insides.

"Grovel?" Abby began with a laugh, anger replacing the need once present, "I do not grovel."

"Oh of course not," was the mock reply.

The tone was what did it in the end. Abby lunged forward and began a full on sprint at the man who stood still for a second before retreating through the door and locking it. Abby couldn't stop herself from plummeting body first into the door and cursing at the throb scattering through her head.

Leaning gently on the door, Abby pounded once with her palm and only heard soft laughing in reply. Heiter stood directly on the other side.

"You-," Abby spat, but couldn't finish the words as a dizzy spell coursed through her.

"Cannot even finish a sentence," was the low reply through the door.

Abby's eyebrows thinned into anger.

"I swear to God when I get my hands on you I'm going to beat you to death with the fucking tray!" Abby screamed out, stumbling back from the door in her fury.

Expecting a reply back, Abby stood in the spot for a few minutes. Nothing was said.

"Oh, so now you're afraid. You should be!" she remarked, anger seeping out slightly.

Still nothing.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Abby sunk down to her knees and glanced at the bottom of the door. No shadow greeted her vision.

"Fucking coward," she muttered.

Although temporarily the need for opium subsided, Abby's body was still not used to such activity. And with her brain beginning to shut down from her lack of drugs, Abby found it only a matter of time before she slumped to her side in exhaustion.

APHAPHAPHAPH

When Abby awoke the next day, she was back in the bed. Her eyes shifted over the surroundings, but closed in remembrance of the night before.

_At least I can walk now._

This thought did nothing to calm her. In fact, with the bed being the only object in the room, it was simple for the dependency to crawl back in to her mind.

Today, it was worse.

Not only did her body shake, but the need to vomit was staggering.

And so she did with little coming out. But at least the food made it to the floor this time.

"Ugh," she moaned out.

_Just a little bit of opium...c'mon Abby, use your charm._

Abby nearly vomited again at the thought of what that charm included.

_I can't live like this. I'll be nice to him. Surely being nice will let him see what's beneficiary for me. _

The logical side was brushed away when it reminded her just who exactly she was dealing with.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"Sorry about the floor," Abby carefully noted, observing Heiter wipe away the last of the cream colored bile.

"It is to be expected," he muttered.

His tone was cold and detached once again. Whatever verbal spar he'd decided to involve her in yesterday, was gone.

"Did you bring any breakfast?" she tried again, gritting her teeth.

Just the idea of eating caused her body to shudder.

"Hold on."

He left the room momentarily and before Abby had the chance to wonder whether he locked it, Heiter was back with sliced apples and water.

"Normally your meal should be large. However, your body is not reacting as well to the opium. That is the cause of the pain. Small ingestion's are what I recommend."

Nodding her head numbly Abby reached for the water but it was held out of her reach.

Her eyes met his with confusion.

"I only have so many glasses that do not shatter upon impacting a door," he answered.

Abby nearly choked at the comment.

_Did he just try to make a joke?_

Studying his features, Abby dismissed the thought. His lips were in their natural frown and his eyes bored into her like she was a petulant child he had the unfortunate duty to watch. Still...

Another shake ascended inside. Abby shook her head in reply as her eyes tightened shut.

_I need it. I need it. I need it. God, to be so high again. To be so free and not worry. If I don't get it...I have to get it._

Wearily raising her head, Abby leaned back as Heiter methodically poured water in her mouth.

The journey down was smoothly, but Abby's brain still shouted at her.

_Get it! Get it! Get it! Get it!_

"Josef," Abby meekly let out.

She could feel rather than see the surprise on his face.

"I think I'm going to die. You don't understand," she sobbed, "how difficult it is to keep telling myself to be strong."

Risking a glance up, Abby scolded herself for not adding in the tears.

"I think I may kill you just to put myself out of the misery of watching you."

Abby's mouth hung open as Heiter set the sliced apples in a plastic container, atop her sheets. Without another word, he turned and left the room.

APHAPHAPHAPH

The next three days were quite possibly the worst days of Abby Post's life. She'd thought hanging on the first few days were bad, but as her brain turned against a determined need to be strong, her emotions soon left their normally neutral state.

When Heiter made an appearance, the food he gave her was always in small portions. Abby had tried with all her might to not beg him for the drug, but somewhere along the line, the will inside her broke.

Pondering on it unconsciously, Abby was slightly unevred by having been broken down so easily. Even while facing death, her will had been stronger. It had told her to prevail no matter what. That nothing was certain until the actions were taken. To be strong and overcome.

But the addiction and dependency broke through each of these repeated rules. Every time Abby had urged herself to be strong, the calm surge of opium resonated in her body. It tore and scratched and forced her to remember how relieving the drug had been. How it had transported her to a place where not even Heiter could reach her. How much happiness it caused when she'd been without it for so long.

And perhaps that was when she finally understood why her mother never stopped. What made her continue using and abusing until it poisoned her system in return. She'd needed comfort and her husband wasn't there to provide it for her mind and body. Pills had done that instead.

Abby's predicament and the small voice in the back of her head constantly mocked that she'd never be free of Heiter or his home, made the need to depend on something, anything, so simple. Why drugs had broke her down faster than the fear of death, Abby was unsure. Maybe because she'd seen death so often as a child, facing it herself was overdue .

Whatever feelings fueled the surge of dependence, Abby knew in her heart of hearts that the only way to turn away from addiction was to say no to it. Addiction wasn't something out of her control. It wasn't something that could take her over and never give her back. She had a choice in it and to fall apart when the end was so near would be death itself.

However, facing Heiter was an entirely different matter.

One day, she had attempted to convince him that if he fed her another vial of opium, he'd no longer have to worry about her. That the constant cleaning up after her and feeding would finally be over. She'd be out of his hands for good. Dead.

His only reply was a condescending nod of the head which forced Abby to dig into the covers. If she didn't, she'd have flung herself at him and perhaps have never gotten the opium.

On another day, Abby wasn't feeling as complacent and as soon as he'd walked into the room, she lunged at him. She'd however greatly underestimated how quick his reflexes would be and by the time she was at the door, it'd been shut and locked.

At these moments, Heiter had a peculiar habit of standing outside the door and listening to the curses she'd throw at him.

"You communist, fascist, son of a bitch pig!"

Which he would reply with, "Is that the best you got?"

In turn, this would infuriate her more so she'd scream out, "_Fucking _communist, fascist, son of a bitch pig."

And in return, he'd either say something to set her off and start pounding at the door, or he'd leave. The madness was trying to determine which one he'd do next. While Abby always got the last word in, it never felt like a true victory.

Although, one evening as he shuffled in with a sense of careful awareness and trickled water into her mouth, Abby blurted out something that caused a personal victory in her mind.

"Are you a virgin?"

Heiter's face stoned immediately, but that same blush scattered up his cheek. Abby laughed and laughed and laughed until the need for opium was overwhelmed by the need for oxygen.

By the time she was able to glance around, Heiter was gone.

Of course, she should have known that the victory wouldn't last long.

The last few days, when the dependency and withdrawal were at their worst, Heiter walked in and in his palm, he held a bottle of the drug she so desperately craved.

At the moment, Abby sprung up in her bed excitedly. Her body nearly burned at the thought of having it in her system again.

However, Heiter had also brought in a trash can.

Before her eyes, Abby witnessed the doctor uncap the bottle and slowly pour it in the can. The sound alone nearly drove her insane.

"Why would you do that?" she'd half choked, half screamed out.

And Heiter simply retorted, "Because you don't need it."

If Abby really wanted to decipher it at the time, she'd suppose those were words of incredible encouragement. Certainly better than the insults he'd thrown at her which she later came to realize had been to distract her from the withdrawal. But, just the way he smiled after pouring the opium out. That's what gnawed at her.

So it was no surprise to find them at their same positions on each side of the door, less than three minutes later.

This time, Abby was releasing her emotions with the intensity of a bipolar schizophrenic.

"You are the worst human being to ever walk the face of this Earth!"

No reply, but Abby sensed movement behind the door.

Her fist swung out and met the door. However, this only caused her knuckles to crack and bleed as a howl of pain was bit back. The door was still intact.

"Surely you can do better," Heiter baited from the other side.

Abby's breaths came out in frustration. The anger tuned out every other logical emotion trying to have a say in her words.

"Emotionless, ancient bastard."

"Whiny American."

Abby's head retreated in confusion at the insult.

"Jackass."

"Idiotic, pathetic girl."

The need to step up her words was immense.

"Disgusting, talentless son of a fucking donkey."

Perking up at the silence, Abby wondered if he'd left her again.

"A donkey?"

And Abby nearly laughed at the reply. It was asked in such confusion she nearly felt sorry for saying it. Nearly. The anger still pounded at her veins with the beat of a Latin drum.

"Yes," she answered, "donkey."

"I suppose I am thankful," Heiter responded after a moment, "that I am not coward enough to take my own life."

The air Abby had been holding in, flattened out. The insult was direct and hit hard. Not only was her pride caught in the crossfire, but so was her mind.

"Are you listening to this, Heiter?" Abby softly asked.

There was no reply, but one foot stepped closer to the door.

With all the air she could muster, Abby screamed out at the top of her lungs.

"ASEXUAL NAZI!"

APHAPHAPHAPH

Eventually, the dependency dissipated. Not to say it cleared out just like a flick of a switch, but it subsided enough to where Abby could have a fair argument with her body.

It started a day after she'd had the blow up with the doctor. A grumble in her stomach indicated for once, an actual appetite. Although susceptible to urges, Abby forced all thoughts back that had nothing to do with her well being.

But this forced her to refocus on her situation. Not only could she move now, but her head was clearing up. On the down side however, she'd been at the house for over a month and yet still no rescue came. There was no doubt her friends' had made it out of Heiter's clutches, but would they really stay silent on such a matter as kidnapping and attempted torture?

That thought accompanied a slew of other questions and pretty soon, Abby promised herself no more waiting. She had to talk to the man whether she liked it or not.

APHAPHAPHAPH

To her surprise, it was Heiter who'd spoken up first.

Two days after the incident (as she called it in her mind), Abby stole a glance at Heiter and lowered the apple slice she'd been about to take in.

"Sorry for swearing at you."

Heiter met her gaze and he must have seen the honesty reflected because he lowered his gaze soon after.

Despite everything the man had done, Abby understood her mindless assaults to be pushed forward by withdrawal from the drug. No one deserved anger directed toward them if the person was having the anger fueled through a selfish purpose. That purpose being opium.

Still, her statement seemed to make him uneasy for he stole glances at her each time he didn't think she was looking.

Finally, the tension in the air was heavy enough to use as a blanket.

"Tomorrow, we will discuss things."

Abby said nothing, but she nodded her head in reply.

Minutes trailed on and before she knew it, Heiter had taken the tray and was opening the door.

"The part about me calling you an asexual Nazi," Abby spoke up as his form lingered in the doorway.

"Yes?" he questioned, his brown eyes meeting her green ones from across the room, expectantly.

Another minute trailed by before something was said.

"You're not a Nazi," Abby admitted.

With that, she laid back down in the bed and a smile spread over her lips in content. No one said all her comments were untrue.

Heiter watched her slumbering form and determinedly attempted not to say something.

This attempt failed however as the words traveled out, but just so he could hear them.

"And you are of equal intelligence."

* * *

><p><strong>Abby's slight instability of moving the drugs out of her body and her mind telling her she needs them would in my POV at least, cause her to act out. Hopefully you didn't think it was too stupid. Anywho, let me know what you think in a review, my beautiful reviewers ;).<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Firstly, sorry for the long wait. I had to catch up with school and get back into writing. Second, holy crap! Amazing reviews! Of course I still love my two faithful reviewers, Angel1932 and dark poetess. But now other people have jumped on and I only hope this story continues to interest you all. So without further ado, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8 - Healthy Hazards<strong>

"Are you going to rape me?"

The question didn't set loose a single stray emotion from Heiter's face.

"No," he finally answered, "that is not my intention toward you."

Nodding, Abby leaned back in the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"Pardon my french and all, but I'd take being fucked in the ass rather than having someone attached to it, any day."

A choked cough breached the room and Abby found herself smiling slightly at the choice of words.

"Now it is my turn," Heiter informed.

Biting her lip, Abby rose back up into a sitting position.

A half hour ago, Heiter had entered the room with breakfast. It took her 15 minutes to chow it down and another 15 for her captor to explain as briefly as he could, what was to occur.

Each day, she was entitled to ask three questions. Yep, magic number three. Heiter had said he'd try to answer them as truthfully as possible.

On the other hand, he was able to ask three from her.

Initially, the idea seemed strange in her mind. So she voiced it.

"What if I run out of questions?"

Heiter had seemed surprise by the possibility.

"I never believed that to be an option."

That silenced Abby temporarily. But he was right. Millions of questions bounced around inside her mind. Some general, some reminiscent of her dependency days.

The doctor never explained any further and this left Abby more confused than ever. Surely there was a reason he wanted to know things about her. Maybe that could be one of her questions.

Stranger still was an almost...casual attitude toward her? From all the signs she'd witnessed eminate from the man, he was the least likely candidate for Mr. Chat of the Year. Then again, he'd continuously surprised her. That could be another question. Whether he had ever been voted Mr. Chat of the Year.

_Probably voted in by the deaf._

In the end however, a long time fear of hers eventually caused the first question of hers to slip out. And luckily, the answer was no.

But now it was his turn and Abby's stomach was in knots from all the possible questions he might ask. Would she hold up on her end of the bargain and come clean?

"How did you come to speak German?"

An internal sigh flew through her lips.

"I knew a little from high school. A friend of mine took the class and would often threaten me in German. Later on, I came to realize that his threats were nothing more than asking me how my day was or my name. Still, I think German is a very aggressive language and very easily interpreted as brutal just by the tone one uses. When I came to Germany 3 months ago, I bought a phrasebook. Although I didn't understand everything at first, I remembered my friends' threats toward me. The way he pronounced the words made it a little bit easier to understand. After that, it was just mingling with the locals and picking up what they said."

Heiter gave a firm nod.

_I wonder if he's absorbing any of this. _

Scratching at her wrist, Abby considered how to word her next question.

"How come I haven't been found yet? Surely my friends have made it somewhere populous by now and informed the authorities."

The doctor's face was somewhere in between cautious and timid.

"When I informed you of my dislike toward others," he began, "I was slightly...untruthful."

"So my youthful psychology was right!" Abby proclaimed with a raised fist.

"Is that your third question?" he threatened.

Shaking her head harshly, Abby's arm fell back to her lap.

"I have...colleagues I keep in touch with. Not often. The few I do, are in-," he paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it.

"The legal system?" Abby questioned sullenly.

"Yes. After the escape, I called them. I've earned one man's respect long ago when I performed on his conjoined twins. The other tends to not care about justice. Without killing the patients, I asked the men to contain the problem."

Abby was stunned. With all the questions streaming through her mind, she'd be here for years.

"Are they okay? What did he mean? I don't care how powerful you are within the justice system. There is no way Jenny or Lindsey would get sidetracked from something as insane as this. They were kidnapped, drugged, and were about to have an unethical surgery performed on them. They escaped with what I assume and hope, the need to tell the authorites. Are you really saying that something your allies could have said, would prevent them from doing that?"

"A month of no interference from the police should answer that question."

"It wasn't even a question. It was a complaint!"

"I did not recognize the difference."

Biting back her frustration, Abby crossed her arms defiantly. But her frustration quickly descended into hurt. The thought of Jenny and Lindsey being so easily persuaded to not tell anyone about the predicament she was in, stung more than she realized. The familiar feeling clawed insensitively at her.

"What do you think your friends did to them?"

Heiter flinched at the terminology, but shook his head.

"You are out of questions until tomorrow."

A growl rose up her throat.

"And you are-."

She paused. There was no use further angering the man. Besides, in the cases of abduction she'd heard, this was a very rare opportunity a captee had. Not only was she still alive, but she could get news from the outside world. No matter how badly she wanted to know several things at once, the trick was to have patience. Asking the right questions would surely have an unforseen, but helpful consequence.

So Abby inhaled five deep breaths before turning to Heiter.

"I will ask another at lunch," he stated, rising.

Abby clenched her jaw, but didn't say anything.

"I'd still like a shower," she called after him.

The man's only response was closing the door.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"How are you feeling?"

"Is that your second question?"

"It is a general one."

"General my ass."

"Yes, you have refered to your ass numerous times."

"Because I would like it to remain just an ass."

"In what terms?"

"Is that your second question?"

"Yes."

Abby paused, mulling over her thoughts.

"What you showed me a month ago...what you planned on doing to Jenny, Lindsey and the other man...that was sick. I don't think I could even fathom doing something so disgusting to a human."

Heiter said nothing. His face gave away no remorse or sympathy. But no glee or pride set in either.

"This experiment that you want to perform," Abby explained, "I don't want to wake up one morning to have had it done on myself. I would like my ass to remain just that...an ass. Normal, human, and oral free."

"Ah."

One of Abby's eyebrows rose.

"Ah? That's it? You're almost as ruthless as-."

Her voice trailed off, fighting back a dangerous comparison.

A brutal silence stretched between them. Abby wondered whether Heiter had figured out already who she was going to compare him to. That subject wasn't one she was ready to talk about just yet.

"I will not perform the experiment on you."

Abby's eyes widened. A gasp brushed through her lips.

"You're kidding."

"I am not."

Studying him, Abby forced herself to calm down. The excitement had to be concealed to a certain extent. If she allowed herself to be thankful for a privelege, it would issue the man a sense of control over her.

"Wow. I'm very, very relieved. If only I could take a-," she trailed off.

Heiter rolled his eyes and Abby nearly grinned at the display. For such a strung together man to act out on a childish gesture was a very pleasant experience to watch.

"Perhaps some time," he finally expressed.

"Really?"

"Your questions have already run out."

"How am I supposed to figure out the difference between a general question and a question I'm allowed to ask? Think about it. If I run out of my questions one day and then ask if I can go to the bathroom, what kind of question will that be considered? And what's the point of asking questions when we could do it endlessly without a time limit?"

The confusion scattered on Heiter's features only made Abby continue in elation.

"We could get to know each other and become pen pals. I had a pen pal once. He was a really nice British boy. We sent pictures back and forth to each other for months. When I turned 17, he sent me a picture and told me only to open it when I was alone."

"And what did the picture reveal?"

"Is that your seco-."

"YES."

"His penis," Abby expressed with a slight grin. "He sent me a picture of his penis. It was about the length of a magic marker, give or take a few inches...probably take."

"Charming," he noted.

"Hey, don't you dare be a negative Nancy. It's not like you'd have anything to send me anyway what with you being asexual and all."

A strange look came over the doctor's face at the statement.

"You really believe I am asexual?" he questioned.

Abby scanned Heiter from head to toe carefully.

"As sick as this is going to sound, you'd have to have been asexual not to have done anything to us while we were knocked out on all the drugs."

Heiter stood abruptly. His long legs were at the door in seconds.

"Just because I did not do anything to _you _while unconscious, does not mean I did not want to."

Abby's mouth dropped open.

"Damn."

"Indeed."

And in seconds, the doctor was gone.

APHAPHAPHAPH

When Heiter entered the room for the third time that day, bringing dinner with him, Abby was somewhat unnerved. Not that she hadn't been unnerved up to this point, but the last statement he'd left her with had really challenged her thoughts.

If her dad tried to analyze Heiter, he would have assumed the same thing she had. He had no emotional, physical, or sexual needs. Something hung unbalanced within his mind, overriding normal human needs. Of course Heiter could have been lying about his sexual interest. Just to surprise her. If this was the case, her synopsis of the man had gone back to square one.

So her mind began working and finally, she developed a plan. It was incredibly stupid, incredibly dangerous, but it had to be done. Based on his reaction, Abby could then gather a better sense of the man. She needed this information in the long run so when escape was possible, she wouldn't underestimate anything about him. Abby would get to know him just as well as her father go to know his victims.

"I think my hand is infected. I didn't wash it out to well after I punched the door," Abby commented after Heiter had set down the tray at the foot of the bed.

His face immediately stoned as he leaned toward her. His eyes shifted down to her arm and lifted it, observing the knuckle area carefully.

_It's now or never._

With the gracefulness Abby was capable of, she leaned in just as Heiter's gaze met hers. His mouth was open to retort that she'd washed rather consistently. Instead, Abby's mouth met his.

Heiter was absolutely still as Abby moved her lips around his. Her tongue peeked out and ran its length across his upper lip while her teeth lightly bit down on his lower lip.

It must have been 30 seconds before Abby got the biggest shock of her life. Heiter responded by pushing his lips into hers. He gently met her licks and offered in more pressure. Ten seconds passed before he paused.

Abby's mind was filled from emotions A to Z. She didn't expect him to respond. She especially didn't expect him to enjoy it or actually be a decent kisser.

_No. No! NO!_

It was with even greater shock that she found herself pinned to the bed, but not in the good way. Heiter's hand was currently wrapped around her throat and gazing up at the man let her know that she commited a very, very bad mistake.

She tried to claw at his hold on her, but he only forced more pressure before things began to swim around her.

"Why?" he gritted out.

Abby tried to say something, but her oxygen was cut off.

"WHY?" he nearly yelled.

A slight ease on her throat loosened the tension and alowed oxygen to flow through.

"Tr-tried to-."

Another centimeter eased off her throat before Abby could finally get a word in.

"Trying to understand you," she choked out before darkness met her vision and she slumped back into the bed.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah...so this thing between them has just gotten awkward. I'm glad I did it though. To have a happy go lucky "relationship" between them is a bit too unrealistic. I try to see it as in Abby's mind, she wants to figure out Heiter so badly just so she can know who he is and potentially find a weakness in him (same thing her father did). However, she greatly underestimated the reaction she'd get. But fear not...perhaps things will get better for my favorite captor and captee. Anywho, let me know what you're thinking in a review!<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for the reviews my lovely reviewers! This next chapter is kind of...more on the thoughtful side. But things go down, even if it's not in dialogue per se. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9 - Ill Indifference<strong>

The night was pitch black and the only noise littering the atmosphere was Abby's rhythmic breaths as she slept.

Heiter entered the room carefully. Through the darkness, he could just make out her form. His hand scattered across the wall and found the light dial. Easily, he rotated it until the room lit up to a slight dim. Enough so that her shape was recognizable.

Gripping the object in his right hand, Heiter observed the girl thoughtfully. When she slept, her sleek black hair sprayed across the pillow. She complained numerous times about not being able to shower, but he really didn't see how it could make her appearance finer. As far as women were concerned, she had nothing to be embarrassed about.

This thought made him uneasy, so he forced himself toward her.

He could see even from a distance, nightmares engraved in her face. Like a puppet, her limbs would move like spasms rocked them. Although normally calm around him, her eyebrows shot down as if she'd just inhaled something rotten. And her mouth would curl back or rest in a silent scream.

The night she'd first overdosed, Heiter had been able to witness first hand all of these symptoms. He couldn't tell as of yet whether she was more vulnerable as she slept or while awake. But he knew something was processing and with the opium running through her bloodstream, whatever processed would only get worse.

As he reached the side of the bed, Heiter wondered for perhaps the hundredth time, whether he should have killed her as soon as he'd found her blood type not favorable.

But an unspoken instinct inside him reveled in her persistency to not show fear around him. And someone intelligent. He could tell just by the way her eyes had lingered when she'd entered his home or the communication she'd set up with the man he'd killed.

It only progressed worse from there.

He had prided himself for so long on being able to slice open a human with no considerable interest for the being itself. It was merely a medial experiment.

But he couldn't force that through his own head when he had the chance to kill Abby as she'd lain helpless on the cot.

Nor when he'd cursed at her overdosed form and his own stupidity at following her when she'd just been distracting him from the others.

He hoped desperately that she wouldn't ask why he was keeping her alive. Not because he didn't know, quite the opposite in fact. He knew very well why he was doing so and the irreversible change she was having on his normally indifferent emotions.

And when she'd kissed him-

Shaking his head harshly, Heiter lifted the gun and pressed it gently to Abby's forehead.

Of course it had to be at this exact moment Abby noted even within her garbled sleep, the sudden coolness of an object upon her.

Like an electric shock to her system, Abby's green eyes sprung open. The crust gathered around her lids, scrambled out of the corner of her eyes.

"Oh," she breathed out.

Heiter stared back at her with not an ounce of information she could gather on his face, holding a gun to her head.

The room was silent for a moment. That is, until Heiter pulled back the trigger and Abby involuntarily shivered at the vibration.

For some reason, maybe due to the intense stress of keeping up such a tough façade around him or perhaps not even realizing how unbalanced her mind truly had gotten over the past month, Abby couldn't keep back the wetness from gathering like a pool, in her eyes.

Very shortly, her gaze became bleary and with a gasped choke, the tears began pouring down her cheeks.

Initially, they were big, fat drops and their intensity picked up when Abby squeezed her eyes together. She made absolutely no noise but the occasional sobs she couldn't keep inside.

Her face became red and slippery while her arms shook from keeping her form up.

All the ferocious pain Abby had kept built up seemed to overwhelm all her senses. She didn't even become aware anymore of the gun at her head or the man whose features shifted at witnessing such a strong woman weep.

It was perhaps a full ten minutes before Abby's tears thinned and her bloodshot eyes opened.

And upon observing the room twice, making sure her vision was accurate, she found herself alone.

"Oh god," she mumbled wearily, gripping the blanket to herself.

Her head fell back and without any warning, her body gathered itself into the fetal position. For the rest of the night, and well into morning, Abby slipped in between bouts of intense weeping or uncanny staring at the wall ahead of her with not a trace of emotion on her face.

And that was how Heiter found her the next morning.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Heiter watched with hidden anxiety as Abby slowly ate her breakfast. Her normally animated features were removed completely, replaced by trembling lips and unfocused eyes.

The robotic movements in which she'd eaten her breakfast further set him on edge. He didn't know why, but something in his gut was informing him that the current fracture in her mind was his fault.

"Planning on killing yourself again?" he questioned.

He was trying to rile her up like he had when she'd been going through the withdrawal. Just so some sort of emotion besides the one she was in, would peek within her.

Abby barely shot him a glance as she ate up the rest of the eggs before vacuuming down the orange juice. When Heiter lifted the tray, Abby slithered back into the bed, turned away from the man and wrapped her hands around herself.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Lunch and dinner went much of the same way. Abby ate the food provided, said nothing to the jabs Heiter threw at her, and held herself after the food was in her stomach.

Somewhere far away in her mind, a part that was normally logical and sturdy, gasped at the broken down doll she'd become. But it couldn't blame her too much.

When Heiter had placed the gun to Abby's forehead, she finally believed without the shadow of a doubt, he was going to kill her. And with this belief, something inside her didn't snap, but simply dissolved.

There is a common phrase one uses when they face death.

"Your whole life flashes before your eyes."

This held nothing but the truth for Abby.

Over and over, she replayed her childhood like it was a cheaply made VCR tape.

Constant heartache pounded within her veins when she realized what her father put her through. He brought home and killed people in the shed of their backyard. And sometime around her 10th birthday, he decided on including her. She never physically harmed any of the "patients" her father had, but she was just as guilty as he. She'd touched them and marveled at them and ignored the questionable voice in her mind that wondered whether the people were still alive or not.

Yet, she learned. She learned where the trachea or the jugular or the brain stem was. She learned how to prevent a bruise from forming or close a wound before it became fatal. She learned how to not show fear when that's all your mind insists on doing.

She didn't morph into a killer, but she sure held the instincts for one.

This thought not only petrified her, but made her wonder what she'd be if her father was still around.

Would he bring home victims on a nightly basis and they'd drink Sprite while plotting the best way to cut off their victims breathing?

This thought alone made Abby clutch on to herself tighter.

But that didn't happen. Her father taught her as much as he believed she needed to know, not just for that time period, but for the rest of her life.

_He knew...he had to have known that he wasn't going to return._

But why would he have placed false hope within her mother? Surely he saw how delicate to the situation she was also. He must have been able to prevent her descent into prescription abuse and then eventual death.

_Or my own pain. That's why I dated so many guys, knowing how hopeless the relationships truly would be._

And this only caused her to grow confused. She hated and loved her father at the same time. Two opposite, yet passionate emotions that whirled inside her and blocked out everything logical around her.

It was the reason she came to Berlin. It was the reason she stayed holed up in her hotel room for 3 months, trying hard to make sense of the only postcard her father had sent to them before his disappearance.

_And why do I even want to find the bastard? All he did was cause misery not only to us, but to the families of his victims._

For some reason, Abby negated this thought. A childish part of her still couldn't accept her father as the big, bad man police had warned her about meeting.

But perhaps those were the functions of a sociopath. To be charming, #1 dad one day, then vicious fiend the next.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Throughout the rest of the week, Abby stayed cocooned not only in her position but in her mind. The heartache had turned into guilt when she'd thought of all the victims who'd died.

She'd only asked the identity of one of them one time, and the rest remained unnamed John Doe's.

Toward the latter part of the week, this thought sparked a curious inquisition inside her.

And the more she thought about it, the more she wondered how she could be so stupid as to not check out the possibility. In turn, this excitement began to expand to her features. By Wednesday, she was eating her meals in a slightly less catatonic state. What forced away straight on excitement was the fact that even if she were to try out her theory, there would be no way Heiter would allow her anywhere near what she wanted.

Said man also refrained from questioning her for some odd reason, at least for a little while.

But this newly branded spike of inspiration accompanied with all of the other possibilities sprouting inside her mind, lifted up her hope to a place it hadn't been in a while.

So after 9 days of her weary entrapment, Abby should have been ready to answer Heiter's question. More than ready, really.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"Come again?" she croaked.

Abby's lunch had been eaten long ago and the tray was lying on the floor near Heiter's feet.

"I want to know why you wandered in the middle of a woods in Germany?"

Her first instinct was to share the same excuse she'd thrown at Lindsay and Jenny. But, she knew he wouldn't buy it. His questions were picked out carefully and if he asked them, he generally wanted to know the answer.

"I was looking for an address."

"Whose?"

"I don't know. I discovered it nearly a year ago, written with invisible ink of all things, on a postcard my father had sent from Germany."

The tale seemed to have engrossed Heiter. His eyes were wide and curious. But he said nothing else.

Abby knew he wanted to know more, but his last personal question was on the line for the day and he wanted to use it carefully.

Despite the fact he would have killed her had she not opened her eyes at the exact time he'd put the gun to her head, Abby was craving the need to divulge the mystery, even a little bit, to the man ahead. Not only was he smart, but he might even know the address she was talking about considering the location of his house.

So, she went on.

"My father left unexpectedly when I was 10, nearly 11. I only knew it was to Berlin because I overheard him arguing about it with my mom. I didn't even know he'd sent a postcard until my mom died. Some of her belongings I inherited included the postcard. My dad had sent it two months after he promised to return. It was from Berlin, but I could tell that wasn't his location. I don't know how...but I could. Anyway, at the time, I was dating a forensics student in college and he had access to a lab. I only wanted to know what the dried stain on the card was, but I ended up finding out a lot more."

Abby met Heiter's intense gaze and continued.

"Not only was the stain blood, but he'd put the postcard under different lightings and found the invisible ink. It scrawled out an address we immediately realized to be foreign, but I knew to be in my dad's handwritting. When I came to Germany, I looked up the address on a map and eventually, set off to find it."

Heiter studied her in nothing short of amazement.

"That was a very...smart thing to do."

He didn't elaborate on which aspect, and Abby accepted the compliment without asking.

"What was the address?" he asked.

"I have it in the bag I had with me when I took shelter here."

The man across her had the audacity to look uncomfortable.

"What?"

"I burned it."

"You...you burned my bag?"

"I had to rid all possessions."

"Well...what if I had a puppy in there? Would you burn the puppy just because it was in my possession?"

Heiter rolled his eyes at the question while Abby grumbled in reply.

"Had my favorite pair of jeans in there," she muttered.

"Why did you not take a vehicle to find this location?"

Drowning out the annoyance, Abby thought about the question for a minute.

"If I did find something at this address, I didn't want anything to link me to it. It was thankful that I had a taxi driver who managed to go as far as he did. The rest though, I had to do on my own."

"Hmm."

"You're out of questions."

The doctor frowned in confusion before opening his mouth.

"And do not tell me that the 3 question rule doesn't apply to you!"

Just as quickly, he closed his mouth and in a few short minutes, left the room.

APHAPHAPHAPH

During dinner, Abby asked her first question of the day.

"Could you look up a name for me?"

"Name?"

"Yes."

Pondering the thought, Heiter shrugged.

"Okay."

"Good...and I need another favor."

Heiter's body stiffened, but he didn't say anything.

"I would really appreciate it if...if you could ask your...acquaintances in the justice department, to look up the name."

This sparked a visible interest in the man.

"What for?"

"Out of questions."

One of Heiter's fingers twitched, but otherwise, he nodded.

"His name is Sebastian Coulter. He died about 12 years ago in Livonia, Michigan. That is, in the United States. He had no children, no wife, but was wealthy. He owned 3 homes, one in Miami. He was 35 when he died."

_Technically murdered._

But Abby refrained from this little drop of information.

She could see Heiter's need to know why this information was important, but he could ask another day for all she cared. The answer, if her theory was certain, could potentially change everything she knew about her father.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Abby awoke to find Heiter watching her.

This was most definitely a first considering he always came into the room at the exact same time each day.

But she could tell that he'd done what she asked and the information was important enough to have entered well before the usual time she awoke. So the creepiness wasn't too bad.

"Sebastian Coulter," he began with a strange light of the eyes, "was known very well by another name."

He paused after this and Abby nearly groaned.

"No time for dramatics, Heiter!"

This seemed to amuse him slightly.

"Others in the United States as well as newspapers may know your friend better," he explained, "as the Countryside Killer."

All of the air left Abby's lungs and despite her promise never to do so again, she soon found darkness surrounding her as her head met the pillow.

* * *

><p><strong>I really do have plot, I promise. I just hope you all can follow it as I write it. We'll be finding out some interesting things about Abby's daddy. Anywho, let me know what you're thinking in a review!<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you very much for the one review! I feel like I've scared other people off now that I've included plot. Ah well. To the lovely reviewer who is probably the fifth person to think Heiter is her father...I lol'd at your incest theory. I know some authors say things just to throw their readers off, but I am here to say that without a doubt, 100%, Heiter is NOT NOT NOT NOT Abby's father. I'm trying to shift the plot so that they interact using Abby's fathers mysterious disappearance which will have more ground to it as the story goes on. But thank you for the review nonetheless because it made me squee. Very loudly. Anywho, there will be some translations at the bottom so feel free to read them before, during, or after. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10 - Joyful Jitters<strong>

"You faint so often, I almost wonder if it's a condition."

Abby ignored the man's amusement as she finished the remainder of her eggs. She needed the food to process just exactly what she'd learned.

"The Countryside Killer," she replied to herself, tasting the words bitterly.

Heiter glanced at her, then back down at his hands. He let out a large breath before speaking.

"You did not know the man Coulter, did you? His murders are rather...appauling."

"Wow. I never thought I'd see the day you found something appauling."

He didn't crack a smile, but Abby grinned for the both of them. Then with calm hesitancy, she passed her tray to him and leaned back on the bed to collect her thoughts.

"I did know him," she explained. "Not while he was alive however. Sebastian Coulter was one of my dad's victims."

"Your father, the serial killer?"

Despite the seriousness of the topic, Abby smiled at the way Heiter pronounced it.

"Yes, my father, the serial killer. I only thought to ask one time the name of the person we'd be working on. I really believed they'd just wake back up after we got...done with them. That their names didn't matter."

"And you have a reason for asking me to check in on the man?"

Nodding, Abby scratched at her chin.

"I think my dad, the serial killer...well, I think he murdered other serial killers."

As soon as she'd said it, Abby knew it felt right. Not because she was still trying to defend her father years after his sudden disappearance. But because the cogs in her mind were churning and the sudden information about Sebastian Coulter made sense.

Plus, if her father was an all out serial killer, there was no way he'd have been able to be around as long as he had. The police may even have picked up on his trail, but upon learning that the residential serial killers were being knocked off, may not have proceeded with as much intensity over the case. Less work for them if someone else was doing their job.

"I just wish," she continued on, "that I would have asked more of their names. I feel like I'm half right."

She was about to ask Heiter what he thought, but stopped herself in time. The man across from her could have been one of her father's victims quite easily.

And maybe this was some sort of karma. For all the potential serial killers her father killed, it was only fair that she be captured by one.

_Oh cruel irony._

"What was your father like?"

Abby didn't hesitate to answer.

"He was intelligent. Really, really intelligent. There was never a question he didn't know. Sometimes he'd over analyze situations...but that was just his way. He also loved my mother and I very much. Enough to shelter us were he to ever get caught. After he disappeared and my mother died, I got left a lot of money. They planned ahead, both of them, in case anything ever happened. But, I also think that my dad could be colder than the bodies he hoisted on to the gurneys. I don't think he was the kind of man to grin away while chopping up a body or stopping a man's heart. He could be calculative and very intense. And he brought me into that side of him at times. But...I trusted him to always lead me out and he always did."

"You must have loved him even before you discovered why he killed."

"Yes," Abby agreed. "Maybe that's a bit sick, but he was my father. That might be an old excuse, but it's the truth. I loved him and after I got over him being gone, I accepted him as a role model. That is, until I got into high school and began thinking about what he and I had done in our warehouse."

"Did he ever make you kill someone?" Heiter questioned curiously.

"Never. He wanted me to know the human body and how the brain worked. He wanted me to know emotions and facial expressions and how to tape yourself up after you'd been shot or stabbed. Most of the time, the bodies were just props, but on occasion, he'd ask me where a certain area of the body was or to describe its' condition. They were all dead by the time I layed a hand on them. Not that I took that in at that age."

"Just a child," Heiter agreed.

A comfortable silence soared between the two as Abby lost herself in her thoughts.

"About kissing you..." she suddenly remarked.

Heiter didn't say a word, but she could sense how uncomfortable he was about the situation.

"My dad taught me to know your enemy. That the human face expresses a hundred emotions each minute. To gather the advantage, understand the other person. I kissed you," Abby indicated, a blush crawling up her cheeks, "because I was trying to understand you. I didn't register how shocking or disturbing it'd be to you, but if there was something inside you that responded, I very much was willing to use it against you."

The doctor was silent for a minute, studying Abby with a deep frown.

Finally, he stated, "Some of your father's mannerisms were passed on to you."

For a second, Abby was confused.

"You think he kissed men to figure them out?"

Choking back a laugh that even surprised him, Heiter shook his head.

But he didn't need to explain. Abby believed the statement without a doubt.

"You do not ever feel the urge to kill?"

Abby's eyes widened at the question.

"Of course not. I...it's not like if my college roommate wore my shirt without my permission, she'd wake up to me taking out a kidney without her permission. I don't really have a vengeance streak, something that made dating me very easy for guys."

Heiter nodded as if it was the explanation for the universe.

"Were you really going to kill me that night?" she suddenly asked again.

Running a hand through his hair, Heiter's dark eyes met hers.

"No doubt you have already concluded an answer to the question."

"I have," Abby immediately answered. "I just need to be sure of it. You know...so I can rearrange my plans."

A flash of annoyance briefly flickered over his face before he nodded once more.

"Yes," he stated. "I was going to kill you."

Abby was relieved at the bolt of fear that shot through her. But when she glanced back up, Heiter seemed like he was on the verge of divulging more.

However, something inside him decided not to, so he stood up with the tray and shortly left the room.

APHAPHAPHAPH

As soon as the door shut behind her, Abby observed herself in the mirror. At least 3 times a day, she was alowed out to use the bathroom. On days when she wasn't up to speaking to her captor, she simply indicated her need by standing up and crossing her fingers. Other days when their relationship was less hostile, she'd simply ask.

The bathroom was completely empty of any potential weapons. No poisonous chemicals underneath the sink nor any medicine of any kind. The mirror was thin and even if she decided to try to smash it with one of her body parts, she doubted any pieces would come out.

Heiter was even clever enough to remove the top of the toilet drain just in case she lifted it off and decided to smash him across the head with it.

Abby quickly discovered that the bathroom would only be used for just that - a bathroom. But, upon studying her thin hair in the mirror and tracing a finger across her forehead and cringing at how greasy it was, a frustrated sigh flew through her lips.

The doctor always waited on the other side, but he'd removed the lock to the door so he could enter any time he chose. Usually, Abby washed her face with the small amount of soap she was provided with, used the toilet, then tried to clean the rest of her body with the soap.

However, this was a complete pain. She had to take off her gown to do this act and while it made her feel clean some of the time, other times she simply wished warm water would spray over her and she wouldn't have to worry about having the soap slip out of her hand or not being able to reach her back.

And the more frustrated she grew, the faster her eyes scattered across the room. This couldn't continue any longer.

_Oh my god...I've got it!_

Mulling over the plan once more, Abby cringed at the loopholes. But they'd been especially tolerant toward each other as of late and surely he wouldn't think much about-.

Inhaling slowly, Abby tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear before opening the door.

Heiter stood there as usual, ready to escort her back to the room.

_I have to make my move now._

"Do you have any tampons?"

The doctor stared at her as if she'd just asked him to donate one of his testicles to a medical facility.

"You know tampons?" Abby questioned. "When a woman has her time of the month, a tampon prevents her from bleeding out a river."

And another internal surge of happiness ignited in her when she saw the red beginning to appear on his cheeks.

"Let me look in the other bathroom," he finally answered.

His body however, turned toward her room first.

"Wait!" Abby exclaimed. "I'm going with you."

A suspicious eyebrow raised at the request.

"Unless you'd rather I bled all the way down the hallway and then into the bed."

Barely supressing a cringe at the image, Heiter swiftly grabbed her wrist before retreating down the opposite hallway.

_Yes!_

He moved at a rapid pace, but Abby was still able to glimpse at the objects she passed. He'd kept her in a bedroom isolated from the rest of the house, nearly the opposite end of the entryway.

A sudden sharp turn nearly made her trip, but Heiter's strong grip on her wrist kept her on her feet.

The intended bathroom soon appeared before her and Abby swallowed her joy upon seeing a shower inside.

_Okay, careful now. Very careful._

Heiter paused suddenly, glancing at the door and then back at her. With a reluctant step, he pulled her into the bathroom behind him with one hand while reaching for a drawer with the other.

Abby's feet grew chilly with the tile, but her eyes warmed at the sight of the shower. She risked a glance down at Heiter who was carefully running his hand over the far end of one of the drawers. His eyes were completely focused and this gave Abby the final go ahead light.

Taking in his hand around her wrist, Abby neared herself and ever so slightly, raised the two entangled limbs.

Just when Heiter found what he was looking for, Abby brought her mouth down to her wrist and bit down on Heiter's hand. HARD.

A yelp flew from his lips and he immediately withdrew while Abby took quick advantage of the brief distraction. She ducked under his bitten arm and glided past him. He spun around to grab at her, but Abby swung out a leg and kicked him square in the chest.

And like a Rambo film, Heiter flew back from the impact. His body fell to the floor, right outside the door to the bathroom.

There was a moment where they both stared at each other, baffled at the positions they currently found themselves in. Abby inside the bathroom, and Heiter laying on the floor.

Soon, the moment dissolved and Abby grabbed the door just as Heiter picked himself up. With a triumphant slam, she locked it with shaking hands and ignoring his yells and violent poundings, turned around.

Nimble fingers threw off her gown and within seconds, Abby was stepping into a shower for the first time in nearly 2 months.

APHAPHAPHAPH

If a shower could ever give someone an orgasm, it would be Abby Post.

When the hot beads first slammed into Abby's rigid form, she cried. They weren't great sobs, but simple drops she couldn't keep in. Such a pleasurable experience to have been withdrawn from her for so long was an occasion to rejoice in.

As the tears subsided, Abby allowed herself to forget everything but the rhythmic _tap! tap! tap! _of the water spraying her body.

Once, twice, three times she twirled around with a laugh and raised her arms proudly. She opened her mouth, then closed it and shivered as the cold in her body was quickly replaced with heat. She rubbed at her arms and let her fingers explore each crevice of her body, truly cleaning it.

One eye strayed to the side and her grin became brighter at noticing not only soap, but shampoo.

Grabbing the soap, she lathed her entire body and laughed at the smell. It was a mix of lavender and pear blossom.

Studying the shampoo minutes later, Abby's eyes couldn't translate the German. She momentarily hesitated about using it. It was Heiter's and there was something incredibly strange about using her captor's shampoo.

_Might make my hair thin out._

But she'd noticed the thickness of his hair and knew this shampoo wasn't for baldness.

_Only one way to find out._

Squirting a pale pink glob on to the center of her palm, Abby risked a sniff and smiled once more. For a man so dark and insane, he certainly had good taste in hygiene products.

She spent five minutes scrubbing at her scalp before rinsing her hair.

The entire shower took 20 minutes, but it was one of the best 20 minutes of Abby's life.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Abby was slightly surprised upon stepping out of the shower, to still see the door in tact. This made her a tad nervous, but whatever Heiter's retaliation would be, at least she'd die clean and happy.

Her eyes scanned the room almost shyly before locating a separate door.

Keeping her balance on the slippery floor, she prayed Heiter wouldn't choose that exact moment to enter. He really didn't need to see her any more naked than she already had been.

Swinging open the door, Abby grinned at the abundance of white towels.

Picking one out, she wrung her hair out twice before wrapping it tightly around her body.

_Now what do I do?_

She glanced at the door and then back around the bathroom. Through the steam, she didn't note any obvious objects to use for defense. And at the moment, her heart really wasn't into searching. Desperately, she wanted to crawl back into the bed and sleep.

So with nerves bouncing around inside, she pulled the towel tighter to herself and with a sigh, slowly opened the door.

No one there.

"What a relief," she mumbled.

Taking a brave step out of the bathroom, Abby quickly observed the opposite ends of the hallway.

_Heiter could just be watching right now, waiting for me to make a run for it._

But that wasn't the case for in that exact same moment, she heard said man speak from somewhere in the kitchen area.

Mindlessly following his low voice, she couldn't distinguish the German from English he was speaking. With built up curiosity, she passed his bedroom, turned a corner and suddenly walked smack dab in the middle of a conversation. With only a towel covering her body.

Three pairs of eyes turned to her and Abby couldn't have faked her blush even if she tried.

Without meaning to, her eyes glanced toward Heiter and noted how wide his eyes were. She then shifted her focus to the two men staring in interest at her.

"Hallo!" she exclaimed in a sudden rush, lifting a wet hand.

The current embarassment of the situation weighed down on her heavily. She was standing, wrapped in a towel in front of three men.

_I'd kill to know what they think of me right now._

But she hadn't missed the unease Heiter had been expelling before she'd entered and quickly understood why. The two men had badges attached to their front pockets.

_Oh my god. I'm saved._

Her eyes found Heiter's once more and something inside her churned at his gaze.

_This is my captor, damn it! I am not staying here a moment longer._

It was obvious now that they'd been grilling him before she'd entered.

_Tell them. Tell them I'm the missing girl they're most likely looking for._

But despite everything, Abby couldn't get the words out of her throat. Instead, she began saying the complete opposite.

"Es tut mir leid. Ich hatte keine ahnung Josef mit gasten wurde."

Now it was time for both men to look confused and Heiter's wide eyes to evolve into unabashed astonishment.

_What the hell am I doing?_

However, she babbled on as if it was a normal occurence for her to protect her kidnappers.

"Liebling," Abby stated in a somewhat breathy tone, forcing her feet to move across the carpet, "sie viersprach, mich zu begleiten."

And she pouted as an afterthought.

She had to hand it to the man for being so quick to keep his emotions in check. Otherwise, the two men opposite him would have continued without a doubt, their suspicious questioning.

"Sie sind...?" one of the men asked.

Throwing a meaningful glance at the man before her, Abby spun around with a large grin.

"Freundin," she lightly answered. "Ist Josef in schwierigkeiten?"

To emphasize her false concern, one hand immediately found Heiter's and squeezed it.

Finally, one of the detectives sighed as if what he wanted to happen, didn't.

"Nicht. Eine frau vermisst hier in der nähe. Sie haben gesehen, etwas seltsam hier in der Gegend in letzter Zeit?"

Abby was only able to decipher about half of his sentence. Luckily, her "other half" took over for vocals.

"Nicht. Ich habe hier entweder arbeiten oder mit Emilie," Heiter smoothly responded.

Smiling at the name, Abby couldn't help but admire how quick he was to think of not only being alright with her sudden half naked appearance, but providing her with a false name.

The two men exchanged looks with each other before finally nodding.

"Vielen dank fur ihre zeit," one detective stated.

"Jederzeit," Abby answered with another overbearing smile.

Their departure took no longer than two minutes. And after the sound of their car sliding over the gravel met Abby's ears, she finally had the chance to back up from the door and try to understand what she just did.

Without direction, her feet found their way into the living room with Heiter following behind. He too was filled with curiosity and kept his distance to a certain degree.

Abby sunk down on to the sofa Heiter had first been sitting on the night she'd been drugged and shook her head.

_Why didn't I tell them? Good god it would have been 3 against one. They probably had guns!_

Keeping one hand on her towel, Abby lifted the second and slowly traced it through her damp hair.

_I cannot be experiencing Stockholm Syndrome. I still assert my own independence (as obvious by the shower) and I certainly have no fondness toward my captor._

Squeezing her eyes shut, Abby practiced inhaling and exhaling slowly.

_There was something in his gaze. He looked to me with a troubled expression and I froze. I looked at his well being before my own...and now I'm back to being a prisoner._

But no. It was deeper than that.

_He hasn't killed me. He found out the information about Sebastian. He was generally interested in the mystery of my father._

And that was it. Since she'd begun her journey, Abby had no one to confide in. She followed a postcard blindly, expecting the answers to appear like some sort of Scooby Doo episode. When they didn't, her confusion grew.

Then remembering Sebastian Coulter and learning of his identity, thus sprouting a whole different view of her father, excited her. She knew it interested Heiter as well. He'd waited however long it was for her to wake up, just so he could tell her the news. He'd know she'd make something of it.

_Did I really just give up my freedom because I enjoyed sharing the mystery of my father with a madman?_

This thought required another deep breath to pass through her lips. She didn't register the weight drop beside her or Heiter's eyes searching her face. All she focused on was her breathing.

Then suddenly, Heiter smiled.

Abby had the fortunate opportunity to see the smile and silently marvel at it. It made him look boyish, nearly 10 years younger.

"What?" she whispered out.

"You smell like me."

The statement couldn't have puzzled her more if he would have suddenly pulled an elephant out of his ass and rode it into the nearest town.

"I suppose I do," she finally answered.

Heiter's face transformed back into seriousness, but something shifted between them. Something Abby couldn't quite put her finger on.

"I'm surprised you let me shower," she stated for lack of a better thing to say.

"They knocked just as I was about to get the sledgehammer."

"A sledgehammer? Really? What's so bad about me taking a shower?"

She said this with a huff, throwing one hand in the air.

The doctor had no well thought out reply so Abby leaned back on the sofa triumphantly.

They stayed like that in silence for five minutes before Abby for the second time in two days, began to see black appear before her.

"You might actually have to check this fainting thing out," was Abby's last mumble before her eyes drifted shut.

* * *

><p><strong>TRANSLATIONS :<strong>

**Es tut mir leid. Ich hatte keine ahnung mit gasten wurde : I'm so sorry. I had no idea Josef was having guests over.**

**Liebling : darling**

**Sie viersprach, mich zu beglieten : you promised to join me.**

**Freundin : girlfriend.**

**Ist in schwierigkeiten : is Josef in trouble?**

**Nicht : no.**

**Eine frau vermisst hier in der nahe : a woman has gone missing around here.**

**Sie haben gesehen, etwas seltsam hier in der gegend in letzter zeit : have you seen anything strange around lately?**

**Ich habe hier entweder arbeiten oder mit Emilie : i have been here either working or with Emilie.**

**Vielen dank fur ihre zeit : thank you for your time.**

**Loved it? Hated it? Mad cause now the plot is coming! The plot is coming! Oh...and this plot may force you to remember things from previous chapters so make sure the information doesn't spill out of your mind like loose change. Let me know what you're thinking in a review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**So I've been gone...for a LONG time. I just want to apologize to anyone who was actually following this story and to my reviewers. Honestly, and I can't say this enough, I really, really can't - you're some of the best I've ever had on this site. I feel privileged just hearing what you guys have to say. It was reading through some reviews which eventually forced me into action to start writing this next chapter. So thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed up to this point, and those faithful. I can never express my gratitude. During the hiatus, I ended up starting and finishing a story on here and I've got to say that not even those reviews could rival everyone's here. Thank you so, so much. Now, since it's been such a long time, this might require you to read back a bit just to remember where things are headed. In fact, I might even recommend it. But otherwise, events are steadily moving along and I promise myself and everyone else not to leave this story gone for so long. Hope you enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11 - Kind Killings<strong>

_"Dad's not coming back, is he?"_

_Abby's mother clutched her cigarette tighter in between her thin, bony fingers and ventured a dead glance at her daughter._

_"No Abby, I'm afraid he's not."_

_Nodding, Abby glanced out the window, hoping the bus would appear. For the past six years, she had asked her mother the same question. Every year, she was given the same answer._

_Moments after the question was asked seemed to laze on like a summer afternoon. Only, they weren't enjoyable. Abby knew without meaning to, that she opened up the same wound her mother worked so desperately to keep closed each year. And she was left feeling a mix of guilt, pity, and grief._

_But this year was different. She'd began analyzing the things she'd done with her dad as a 10 year old; wondering why such privacy was needed or where indeed her father had gotten his props._

_"Dad killed people, didn't he?"_

_It was out of Abby's mouth before she had time to think about saying it. But at least it was out in the open and not bouncing around in her mind like a horde of irritable wasps._

_Abby's mother studied her daughter quietly before answering._

_"Yes, he did. But you musn't look down on him. They weren't really people."_

_This shifted Abby's interest, but her mother shook her head as if she'd accidentally spilled a long guarded secret. Her lips pursed and after a moment, she turned toward the window._

_"Bus is here."_

_Abby understood a dismissal and with one last lingering glance, left the house._

APHAPHAPHAPH

Abby's eyes sprinted open, glancing at the unfamiliar ceiling above. Momentarily, her dream was discarded for confusion.

_Why is the ceiling higher?_

"Your vasovagal syncope is partly my fault."

Jumping at the sudden voice, Abby's head rolled over to observe Heiter sitting beside the bed. She didn't quite understand his words because of shock. Shock being from finding her gaze shifting behind the man, to a window.

_Did he recently get that installed?_

A dull thumping in the back of her head forced her comprehension to slow down.

"I knew you'd eventually see my reasoning," she mumbled with a smile, eyes pasted to the window.

From her vantage point, she could see the intense vibrance of green grass and a lagoon blue sky dipping into the ground. Sure, the metaphors might have been a bit exaggerated, but it was the first time she'd seen the outside in a very long time. Such blissful metaphors were welcomed.

Heiter didn't reply and Abby turned to stare back at him, inquisitive about his silence.

And that was when she noticed a picture behind him. It was much like the symmetrical one representing two children she had noticed upon first entering his home, except the object of the painter's obsession was a human hand. In between each finger, the artist had sliced a murderous, black line. It's intent had been to cause distress and disorder, or so Abby imagined because it certainly didn't bring any uplifting feelings to her.

And then it dawned on her.

Bolting up in the bed, Abby's eyes hastily took everything in. The new room was far larger than the old cubicle one she'd been confined to. Besides the window and painting, a desk chair rested beside a neatly polished, mahogany desk. It's price had to have ranged in the thousands alone. While still white, the walls seemed less inclined to depress her. Maybe because the light bounced off them, causing a strange luminance to filter through?

Swallowing her shock, Abby trailed a finger over her abdomen. Still wrapped tightly around her was the towel she'd fainted in and thankfully, she'd kept it glued to her form.

"You do realize," Abby noted, studying the wide open door, "I could escape at any moment. Call the police and send you to prison."

Her eyes settled on his form and for a second, his lips remained in a firm, thin line.

"Yes, you could do that," he answered. "You could have also informed the police of who you were."

Abby's tension spread underneath the muscles in her back, keeping them taut and alert. But when Heiter only stared back at her, Abby slowly eased her trepidation.

"So...what are the rules then? I don't want to wake up to the sight of a gun aimed at me again," she noted. "And I am taking a shower again, whether you're there with me or not."

Heiter yet again stayed silent, but she could sense the concentration rumbling inside him.

Even though it was swallowed down, shock still resonated within her. How had their relationship changed so drastically in just a few minutes?

_Maybe by covering for him, I showed him trust. Certainly doesn't seem like the type of man who gets it a lot...well, from people other than his patients._

"You may go anywhere in this house, but you must first inform me of where you are headed to."

Wanting to argue, Abby bit back all defensive words as she noted the strain in Heiter's features. While he may trust her a bit, they certainly weren't at the point of demands.

"If I want to go outside?"

"I will accompany you."

Nodding, Abby glanced up at the ceiling once more.

"Why are you still keeping me prisoner if you're allowing me to wander around?" she questioned.

"Would you rather I put you back in the old room?"

A harsh shake of the head was his reply.

"But I can run away now," she argued.

"You can try."

Abby kept her body numb as a flinch passed through.

"But why am I still here?" she asked in slight frustration. "You're basically allowing me freedom inside this house. Why not outside?"

"When you are ready to venture back to your life, I will let you. For now, your place is here."

The staring couldn't continue at the statement. With a swift glance, Abby raised a curious eyebrow.

"What do you mean by 'when I'm ready'?"

"You wish to figure out the mystery of your father's whereabouts. Once that is completed, you are free to go."

"But-."

She cut herself off, however, when no words came to her.

"A part of me is hesitant," Heiter admitted, "about letting you go. Despite your clever replies to the police, you can just as easily tell them of my practices once I allow you to leave. So you will be free, but monitored within reason. Just as well, I have found myself becoming truly interested in your father's proceedings. You know as well as I, you were not going anywhere based on the assumptions you sought. I can provide you with information or contacts you need."

"I-."

"Not an inch of you will rest until you figure out what happened to him. If you do not face your curious obsession now, it will only consume you later in life. I am the best chance you have at finding out what you need to know."

"I don't trust you to help me out of the goodness of your heart," Abby finally answered, studying the doctor carefully.

"And you are right in not doing so. Then again, perhaps I am feeling the slightest discontent for my actions."

Now, Abby was all ears. She forced her mouth to move, but no words came.

"D-do you feel remorse for your actions?"

"You may call it what you wish. Aiding you in your investigation offers a slight release from this discontent."

"What an odd way to release your guilt. By helping the victim you originally planned to perform an unethical surgery on."

"Would you rather I search for victims with your blood type?"

For some reason, Abby tilted her head and grinned.

"That's not what I meant. It just seems like a German thing to do."

"And it would be American of you to say yes."

"We're not all that easily persuaded," Abby argued. "Having said this, I do accept your intentions. Although, there is one thing I'd like to stop."

Heiter's silence was her cue to continue.

"The three questions thing. Great thought, but I think it irritates us both to have to limit ourselves from knowledge."

"An interesting way to put it."

"I'm going to assume that's German for yes."

"Never assume."

_And back we are to being a grump. Ah well. At least you're a grump who's going to help me._

This thought allowed Abby to fully comprehend the extent of his words. Instead of blindly stumbling in a direction she believed relevant, Abby would have a decently intelligent person assist her. No matter that the same man originally intended for her mouth to be connected to another woman's ass. Nope. No matter at all.

Shivering, Abby broke her gaze from the room and moved slowly to her feet. A faint dizziness spiraled around.

"My vasovagal syncope," she muttered, stilling herself. "How's it your fault?"

"Prior to your stay here, your blood pressure and heart were quite healthy. Certain circumstances here have put you in a position of constant fainting."

Mulling over the words, Abby studied her feet.

"Like intense stress?" she offered. "Or my opium intake. Sudden onset of extreme emotions. I know my mom would take something for that. Trauma. Lack of sleep. Nerve malfunction. No wonder you're feeling guilt."

"That is not the term I wish to use," he quipped, his stare harsh.

"Okay. Discontent. I'm guessing that's another reason you're going to let me walk around. To get my blood pressure back to normal."

"Yes."

"Good. I think I'm starting to put on some pounds."

The doctor rolled his eyes.

"Right," she shrugged. "So...what about clothes? I'd really, really enjoy having something to wear other than a hospital gown."

For a moment, the doctor seemed indecisive.

"Most of the clothes I've burned."

Sighing, Abby rubbed at her forehead.

"Well...do you have any clothes? Sweats or shirts too large on you? I know you didn't throw out any of my underwear or bras so I'll just rewash those. Might have to get more pretty soon though."

An awkwardness seeped into Heiter's features and this time, Abby felt it as well.

_Wearing my potential killer's clothes? Smooth, Abby. Real smooth._

Then again, her option was a hospital gown or a towel.

Her eyes brightened momentarily.

"You know I need clothes," Abby offered. "But I suppose I could always walk around naked."

This put the man into motion. With a strict glare, he raised his hand in a sign of order. Stay.

"I'm not a pup-."

But he had fled before she could offer up a rebuttal.

Studying the room again, Abby couldn't help but feel the vibrancy of the area seep into her. The lights, the color, the scenery. She hadn't even realized what stuffing a person in a windowless room for two months, could do to their psyche.

_And this is my room. For now. As soon as I figure out what happened to my father, I'm getting the hell out of here._

This was fact. Yes, Heiter was being incredibly trusting of her and she thanked him dearly for it. Where once she was his victim, now she was like a partner of sorts.

But this freedom he allowed her didn't displace the facts.

He had a severe case of antisocial personality disorder or most likely, was a sociopath. Or at least showed signs of being one. No sympathy for anyone else. Didn't recognize the rights of others. Incapacity for love (based off his awkwardness each time she provoked him sexually and lack of compassion). Authoritative. Complete control over his victims. Secretive. Conventional appearance. And perhaps the grandest display was his emotional urge to justify his actions in order for her to trust in him.

_Most likely, that's where his sudden need to help me is coming from. Whatever "discontent" he's feeling, only will be quenched when I accept his methods._

For the time being, Abby was fine with following this strange partnership they'd developed. She'd attempt to dislodge any lost memories stolen in the thick fog of time. If they proved to be important, she'd voice them and hopefully her 'curious obsession' would be discovered. Soon.

It wasn't just her wish to leaveGermany. It was her wish to figure out the mystery once and for all. To figure out her heritage and why her father abandoned their family.

_I'll pursue this for as long as it takes._

And Abby briefly wondered if the complete devotion she had to those words, was healthy.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"Oh, baby. I've been missing you for soooo long."

A clearing of the throat interrupted Abby's proclamation.

With lit emerald eyes, she turned toward her former captor. With a triumphant grin, she lifted up the brewed coffee.

"My college days were only possible because of this sweet delicacy."

"Rots your teeth," he muttered.

"And water can easily carry Rohipnol," she mentioned, narrowing her eyes at him pointedly.

The doctor didn't answer, but he gestured her to sit at the table.

"The address marked on the back of the postcard. What was it?"

Sipping from her mug, Abby paused for a moment. Complete disbelief overran her once more as she realized just exactly what she was doing. Chatting over coffee with a probable serial killer. How utterly strange.

"Could I have a pen and paper?" Abby questioned softly.

Within seconds, both items were in front of her.

Biting down on her lip, Abby closed her eyes as the pencil tip dented down on the paper.

With a calm inhale, her eyes blasted open and her hand rapidly sped over the white parchment.

When she was sure the address was correct, Abby slid it back to Heiter.

His eyes fell over the paper, reading it over a few times. Then, he met her gaze. His face revealed no emotions and that in itself caused her to grip on to her coffee cup.

"This house," he explained, glancing at the paper once more, "is only 15 miles away from mine."

Feeling her eyebrows rise, Abby straightened in her seat.

"So I was close," she finished, surprising stirring inside her. "Really, really close. I probably would have made it to the house if I hadn't given up and asked for a ride. Tell me, what do you know about this guy?"

"I have not taken the time to get to know those living around me," Heiter hinted. "But this man is one I've met on two occasions. He lacks intelligence, but not initiative. He designed and helped build his home."

"He's good at developing plans," Abby surmised. "What else?"

"I cannot recall. He rarely discussed his work, but I believe he has business in the city."

"Okay. He's a traveler. What's his name?"

Heiter thought for a moment, his eyes running over the paper.

"Steffan Mahnkompf."

Abby shook her head just to make sure she'd heard right.

"Steffan Manhkompf?" she repeated.

_That's the name of the man my father talked to on the phone. The one he was meeting in Berlin. But...what are the chances this is the same Steffan?_

"You recognize the name," Heiter noted.

"I think I do. I think this man met my father in Berlin. Otherwise, it's too big of a coincidence for my father to have written down the address of a man named Steffan."

Both were silent for a moment and Abby reveled in the information learned.

_Why did you write down his address, dad? You wanted the address found, but you didn't want others to detect it. Hell, you might have even put the blood stain on the postcard on purpose, just so I'd have to go investigate the strange mark in a lab. _

"I want to meet him," Abby announced, suddenly not in the mood for coffee.

"I cannot guarantee he is at his home."

"Please, could you find out?"

Nodding, Heiter ventured to the nearest telephone and lifted a book near it. Abby guessed it held phone numbers.

_What if this guy killed my dad? Or knows who killed him? Or maybe my dad is alive and Steffan knows where he is._

Heiter's voice broke through her pondering and for a few still minutes, she listened to him speak. She caught bits of phrases in German, but wasn't in the mood for deciphering them.

"He is at his home," Heiter confirmed, setting the telephone down. "He has agreed to come over. I did not mention you."

"Better that way," she agreed. "The last thing we want is for him to know I'm here."

"What do you plan on doing once he is here?"

Frowning, Abby met Heiter's gaze.

"What would you do if you were in my situation?"

The doctor seemed surprised at the question, but he thought over the question regardless.

"Make a list of all the questions you want answered. Do not let him leave without getting them."

"Do I detect a hint of a threat there?"

"You did ask."

Abby nodded.

"So I did. I don't think I'll go to quite extreme lengths, but it wouldn't hurt to question him. Gently. No one likes being accused of anything."

Heiter remained silent, so Abby moved to her feet and stretched her limbs. One of his white t-shirt covered her and her bottoms were black sweatpants. Abby had been initially shocked to discover that he owned something so casual, but then she attributed the oddity to his physical appearance. A man had to have worked out periodically to keep his appearance.

Wearing the clothes was odd in itself, but she believed it was personally more awkward for Heiter. A victim in HIS clothes. It was utter blasphemy!

This thought made her grin and Abby took a short moment to pride herself in finding the creepiest things amusing. Otherwise, she'd have been dead long ago.

"Well, I'll just be heading off to bed," she decided, fighting back the remainder of the chill coffee. "I need to rest for tomorrow."

Outside, the sun had retreated behind the trees, springing forth the last shadows before night firmly took a hold.

_God, I missed seeing this._

"I will wake you before Steffan begins his journey here," Heiter offered, studying her movements.

"Good," she yawned. "And thank you. I appreciate this."

_Damn it, I'm not a beauty pageant queen, thanking her sponsors! He. Is. Mad. Why can't I get that through my head?_

But perhaps he reminded her of her father in certain ways. His cold mannerisms or glee toward his practice.

_Let me think about this some other time._

So with a tired wave, Abby passed her former captor and retreated into her new room. Tomorrow had the potential to be a very important day.

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><p><strong>Let me know your thoughts in a review! Confrontation with the mysterious Steffan is coming up next.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Alright, one review. I expected nothing less with the hiatus I was on. Thank you, Angel. Your thoughts really helped me move along forward. And so here we are next and I hope you enjoy reading.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12 - Little Labyrintha<strong>

Waking up to the sight of autumn trees swaying outside her window caused Abby to momentarily assume everything that had occurred within the past two months, was nothing but a strange, ugly dream. For a moment, she was able to drink in the sun creeping up over the horizon and send its glorious rays in between the thick tree trunks. It was like a breath of life from the morning, kissing the beautiful lips of nature.

Of course reality set in when Abby's eyes strayed over to the cruel painting with the thick, black strokes slicing in between each finger of a hand. The one that had made her uneasy the day before.

Without having a keen sense of her actions, Abby hopped out of bed and ventured over to the painting. She studied it for a while, attempting to feel anything other than a dismal hope. Unfortunately, no other emotion could top it.

So, with a soft grunt, she stood on her tiptoes and lifted the painting off its nail. Surprisingly, the piece was lighter than expected. As if the force of the subject matter would add weight on to the finished product.

Eventually, Abby settled on lying it face up atop a nearby desk. That way, it would not be one of the first objects she'd see in the morning.

"The painting dissatisfies you?"

Jumping at the voice, Abby turned to find Heiter standing at the open door. She guessed he'd kept it open all night to ensure she wouldn't escape.

"Well...," Abby mused, studying the sharply dressed man, "that's not exactly it. By nature, I'm a social person. Ask any exboyfriend or old friends from school. So seeing this painting, while I understand its imposing nature, has done nothing to help me embrace my situation."

The doctor frowned.

"Did you study art?" he finally asked.

Surprised, the auburn haired girl crossed her arms and thought over the art history course she'd taken in college.

"Most notably, the popular artists. DaVinci, Van Gogh, O'Keefe, Picasso, Salvador. My favorites are the Starry Night dual paintings by Van Gogh. Something inside me stirs at the drawings. Like if I reached out my hand or stared at them long enough, I'd be right inside. Those are the most spectacular paintings for me. The ones so beautifully realistic that you could jump inside and run away for a short time, from the problems occurring in your life."

"Running away does not solve everything," he noted.

Her lips upturned for a moment, green eyes fixed on the man.

"Neither does surrounding yourself with loneliness."

Heiter immediately shifted the intensity of his stare, but something softened in the gaze.

"Steffan will be here in an hour. He understands I am to talk with him about building another home."

The moment passed, but again, Abby noted there was some sort of invisible significance in it. What it was, she had yet to discover.

"Alright. Just let me take a quick shower and I'll be ready," she answered, glancing toward her bathroom. Which by the way, was fully equipped with a shower!

"Wait...I have something for you."

Abby didn't comprehend the words at first on account of the metaphorical fist slamming into her stomach. For thirty seconds straight, her lips moved open and then closed like a startled fish.

"I'm dreaming," she told him, watching in sudden apprehension as he pulled out a black bag. "I probably died sometime during the night and in the afterlife; you're paying in karma by buying me gifts. Oh the irony."

"Had I known you could not handle it, I would have never done this," Heiter commented.

Slowly, he placed the plastic, black bag down and lifted out the items inside.

"You went shopping!" Abby exclaimed, helpless to stop the laugh from spilling out her throat.

Indeed, in Heiter's hand laid a pair of blue jeans and a white, long sleeved shirt with Berlin written in slanted, sparkly black letters.

Her feet carried her over to the man, eyes pasted to the articles of clothing.

"There are more shirts inside, and pants."

Shaking her head, Abby glanced up at Heiter in a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

"You didn't have to."

But even before Heiter said a word, Abby's mind kicked itself into action.

_He doesn't like me wearing his clothes. _

And without the doctor having a proper reply, Abby knew this to be true.

"Thank you," she opted for instead. "How much did all of this cost?"

"Why does that matter?" he asked, almost defensively.

"So I can pay you back. I'm not in the business of letting people buy things for me. It's cheap. How much was it all?"

Heiter seemed perplexed at her statement. His eyes fell into a squint, as if he was attempting to figure out what sort of specimen was conversing with him.

"Consider it a peace offering."

"Even peace has a price. Do you really want me to start playing the guessing game?" she threatened.

She felt like she was five years old again, arguing with a neighbor boy about where the clouds in the sky came from.

"Three-hundred and eighty-one euros."

Abby repeated the number in her head, striving to remember how strong the U.S. dollar was. In euro terms, that was a lot. But once it transferred into American dollars, she'd finally gain the true extent of it.

"Has the U.S. dollar gotten weaker or stronger since my captivity?"

Picking up the now empty bag (she'd emptied all of the clothes out), Heiter observed her quietly. She couldn't tell if he was pondering her question or not.

"Take your shower."

Then, he spun around and exited the room.

_How in the hell is he able to make me feel like a child at 22 years old?_

Grumbling, Abby glanced over the clothes Heiter had picked out and silently gave the man a tip of the hat. But the prices had all been torn off, and an uncomfortable weight settled in the pit of her stomach just at wondering how much Heiter had spent on the clothes. She didn't like feeling like she owed people.

It wasn't until she was under a steady stream of hot water, rubbing shampoo through her hair, that Abby completely stilled. The calculations were running through her head non-stop and she got the approximate amount down.

_He spent $500 on me. _

APHAPHAPHAPH

She stayed silent upon reaching the kitchen, regarding his shopping spree. The thought of him shopping for clothes, unnerved her, especially since the clothes fit perfectly. In fact, the blue jeans gave her long legs a curvaceous shape she'd never had before. Heiter of course would never consider the differences between skinny, bootleg, boyfriend, or curvy jeans. Luckily, she didn't have to worry about that kind of stuff with him.

_Bless his asexuality._

However, Abby didn't want to come off ungrateful. The doctor really, really, really did not have to spend his money to accommodate her needs. The reality of it was almost kind of...comforting? Or maybe puzzlement mixed in with relief at having something familiar on.

"I set your clothes on my bed. Wasn't sure where you wanted them," Abby mentioned, studying his form leaning over the oven top.

_If that doesn't sound like I had sex with him, I don't know what does._

Shaking off the eerie thought, Abby glanced past his silent form and into the small window above the sink. The once radiant sun had long ago retreated behind a gang of ash clouds.

_I don't even know what month it is. Jesus. Or what date. What happened in the world. What winter temperature in Germany is like._

Heiter turned toward her, eggs completed in a frying pan.

"You appear in thought," he observed.

Surprised, she gave a slow nod.

"What day is it? Or month?"

"14th of November."

Abby couldn't hold back her shock this time. She knew she'd been vacant from the world for awhile, but actually hearing the date was far different than imagining the time that had passed.

_I left to find the man on the back of the postcard - Steffan - on the 3rd of September._

She didn't send out any more distressing signals toward the doctor, but continued to marvel at the reality of it.

_Thank God I paid in advance for a six month stay at my hotel. My hotel! In a month, the staff will clear my room out. Including money and passport. I'd be stuck in Germany._

"Relax," came Heiter's calm suggestion. "You are physically exhausting yourself with your thoughts. Relax for a moment and eat."

Nodding, Abby shuffled to the table and slid down into a chair. She didn't think much about the eggs she was eating or the fact it was the first time she'd eaten at his kitchen table or even her eventual eviction. Instead, she focused on her breaths. Easy, slow, even, and calm.

This method eventually subdued the familiar dizziness threatening to surface. A few times, the corner of her eyes began to softly blacken. But, Abby fought back by keeping her body relaxed.

When she was sure another fainting spell wasn't going to occur, Abby glanced up at Heiter. He'd been watching her cautiously the entire time.

"Did you go early this morning to Berlin?"

"No. Last night after I made sure you were sleeping."

_Oh my god. I was alone for an entire night?_

She met his eyes and witnessed her thoughts reflected.

"I locked all doors and windows."

"Good," she answered nonchalantly. "It's not like I was planning to escape or something."

The doctor fixed her with a tired stare, but Abby knew he found some sort of humor in her statement. Otherwise, he'd scowl.

Come to think of it, she was getting rather good at reading his gestures. If not the good ones, then most certainly the bad.

"Do you have questions to ask Steffan?" Heiter said.

"Not yet. I need to know first if it is him. There's a mentality a person can force themselves into where they've convince themselves of something because they want it to be true. I'd hate it to be that kind of situation."

"I do not think you would allow yourself to do this," he admitted.

"Regardless...I have to see. Maybe I'll mention my dad's name right away. Maybe I won't. But I need you to make him feel comfortable. Maybe...put a little Rohipnol in his water?"

The doctor scowled and Abby grinned at his annoyance.

Strangely, her first day of freedom inside the house, was going rather smoothly. No yelling, fighting, or killing of any kind...yet.

Just as she stood with her plate and Heiter extended his hand to grab it, the doorbell rang shrilly throughout the house.

Both occupants shared a long look with each other before Heiter dropped his hand. Abby indicated for him to go with two of her fingers marching over an invisible floor.

Only when the bell rang again did he finally exit the room. Abby placed her empty plate in the sink and slowly took in a few breaths.

_I shouldn't be nervous for this. I experimented with dead bodies of serial killers at age 10. Okay...maybe experiment isn't the right word. It's too closely associated with my captor. But I've been around the gruesome stuff and dad showed me the ins and outs of people and their emotions. We'll just see what happens._

Tugging up her sleeves, Abby glanced at a nearby mirror on the opposite side of the kitchen. Her reddish brown hair had grown out nearly an inch and a half. This changed her appearance, giving her face a rounder structure.

_Damn. It's amazing how fast this change took place. Physical and mental._

That was her last thought before she followed the voices conversing in the den area.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"So you are an American student interested in medicine?"

Abby nodded. Although relieved that Steffan could speak English, which she assumed he could, understanding his words was not the easiest thing in the world. His r's were nearly nonexistent in his accent and the strength he put in the vowels, made the question sound far more menacing than it actuall was.

But she was a master of disguise. And despite his sloppy accent, she determined his words within thirty seconds.

"Yes," Abby agreed. "I was visiting the Hamboldt University of Berlin, fascinated by the study of stem cells. It's a bit of a hot topic in my country right now. Morality and ethics of the practice. Someone from the university recommended I speak with a Dr. Josef Heiter about the surgical procedures regarding such an operation. Of course Dr. Heiter's specialty lies more in the biological field rather than cellular diversification, but I was still able to learn new things."

"Any particular reason you pick Germany?"

_You. The reason I'm here is because of you. The reason I got picked up by Jenny and Lindsey is because of you. Youyouyouyouyouyouyouyou-._

"I was also actually trying to track down an original copy of Freud's Interpretation of Dreams. The 1899 edition was printed in German and I'd heard a rumor that the university carried it."

She slowly watched the man's attention diverge. Once topics got analytical or for that matter, intelligent, Steffan decided to step out.

"Never got the copy," Abby mentioned. "But I'm glad I came here-

That one took a lot of confidence and courage to say.

"-because Dr. Heiter's home is magnificent."

Immediately, Steffan was reeled back in.

For a short while, she listened to them discuss houses and famous architectures. She couldn't determine whether Heiter was generally interested in the conversation, or speaking to build trust. Probably a bit of both.

Regardless, for a man who did not like human beings, she was impressed at the naturalness at which he spoke. It made her briefly wonder if a part of him still resided inside from his surgeon days. He'd had to have interacted with his patients and parents of the patients. Most of them might even consider him their hero for the work he'd done. Now that was a hell of a thought.

An entire half hour soared by before Steffan glanced back at Abby with an apologetic shake of the head.

"Could I get you water?" Heiter asked.

Abby forcefully kept her gaze down, afraid she'd laugh if meeting Heiter's features. To spike with Rohipnol, or not to spike with Rohipnol? That is the question.

"That'd be excellent. I only have beer in my refrigerator. The tap tastes like rust."

The doctor shuffled out of the room shortly after.

"So your name is Emilie? I must say, it is beautiful."

Abby blushed appropriately, studying the man under her lashes.

In years, she considered him a few younger than her dad. His shoulders were wide and this leanness extended down to his stomach. Bright, blue eyes scanned the room every now and brown hair in the process of graying, slept like a lion upon his head.

Only creases in his eyes and wrinkles besides his mouth, indicated him to be in his mid-40's.

Steffan suddenly laughed, leaning back on the couch with a grin.

"What?" Abby asked, well humoredly.

Shaking his head, Steffan mumbled, "Reminded me of someone for a moment."

Abby's heart nearly convulsed.

"In what way?"

She made sure to add the slight disbelief in her question. That way, it didn't sound overly suspicious.

"The way you watch me. It reminds me of-."

But the man abruptly cut himself off, his grin disappearing like a star when the sun rises.

Coughing uncomfortably, Steffan's eyes traveled behind her, anxious for his drink.

"My real name isn't Emilie," Abby began. Briefly, she wondered if this was the time. Then again, she nearly died trying to find the man. Staying mute was not an option.

"Oh?" he questioned, humor bouncing into his smile. "What is your name?"

"Abby. My dad used to call me Labyrintha."

For a moment, confusion was petrified onto Steffan's features. As if he'd remembered something and couldn't for the life of him, figure out its origins.

"His name was Gregory Post. And about 12 years ago, he went to Berlin to meet a man named Steffan. Unfortunately, my dad never returned and he led my mom into depression and an eventual drug overdose. As for me...well, I constantly wonder if I'm like him. I seek approval in the men I date because I feel like I never got the proper version of it while my dad was in the picture. And to be honest, you and I would never be having this conversation if not for something quite peculiar. Just as I believed my dad to be dead, a postcard came to my attention. This being before my mom's death, about six months after he left us. It was in our belongings after she passed. The postcard carried a blood stain on it and ever so curious in my intentions, I took the postcard into a labratory to determine the nature of the stain. Do you want to know what I found?"

Steffan was having difficulty breathing and keeping his eyes on her. It was as if someone was slowly sucking out the oxygen in the room.

"What?" he managed to gasp out.

"Your address, Steffan. Written in invisible ink. Quite simple to make, actually. And with the intense heat of the lights coming down on to the postcard, the message revealed itself. So...here I am. I've followed the postcard, and you don't even want to begin to know what the hell I've been through to get here. All I want to know is information about my father. Surely you can do that for me, can't you?"

Her last question came out softly, even though the rest of her words were more of a rant.

"I-I-."

But the man could not get a proper word out.

"Steffan," she tried again, "please. You don't know how horrible it is, constantly wondering if he's dead or not. Or worse, if he's alive. Wondering why he stayed away for so long."

He glanced her over once more, truly taking everything in.

"I knew I'd seen those eyes before," he breathed out.

"Where? When?"

Hesitantly, Steffan studied the room cautiously.

"Anyone else here?"

"Just Heiter and I," Abby promised, leaning forward.

"I cannot."

"Steffan, please."

"You do not understand the secrecy I am sworn too."

"This is my father!" Abby nearly yelled, bouncing to her feet. "I watched his disappearance slowly eat my mother away. I tried to deny none of it bothered me, but truth be told, if I'd had the option to follow her path, I would have. The only reason I didn't is because I had hope. Hope that he was still alive somewhere. And this fucking postcard proves my fucking point! Please, Steffan. Please, tell me something."

The man took a long sigh, his eyes scattering around the room. Neither registered the silence coming from the entire house.

"You are really Abby Post, daughter of Gregory?"

"Yes," she expressed, trying to keep her tone level.

"He talked about you often. Back when I saw him."

"He met you in Berlin?" she gathered.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I cannot say."

With a frustrated groan, Abby fell to the couch.

"But," Steffan mentioned, "he was in my presence for a month. We explored Berlin, shopped, ate. He bought gifts to take back for you."

"Did he trust you?"

"Not at first. But we worked into a slow friendship."

"I heard you had some dirt on him. That was one of the reasons he flew to Germany to meet you."

Steffan studied her intensely, shaking his head every so often.

"How did you come to know this information?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well...yes. Your father's disappearance is not a matter to be taken lightly. When he left one day without telling me where, I understood him to be in trouble."

"Trouble?"

"My fault. This "dirt" I had on him was-."

"-about him killing serial killers?"

He paused, rubbing at his sweaty palms.

"He had hoped you'd never find out."

"Then he severely underestimated everything he taught me. Now...why do you say he was in trouble?"

"Others knew about this."

"You just went around, telling random people that my dad killed serial killers?"

"No. It was not like that. These people approached me one day, curious about your dad. In fact, they knew before I had a chance to lie. They had proof."

"Just like that, these people found you, ready to talk about my father?"

The man stayed silent for a minute.

Pondering over the information, Abby took it in from a different angle.

"Okay, so you won't tell me why you came to Berlin. But, I'll try to figure this out. Let's say you found out about my dad somehow. Whether these friends of yours had already told you or not, I can't say. Having this information could ruin his life and send him to prison, maybe even to death row. So, you research this man and know that despite his middle class home, he's quite wealthy. That's when you think to blackmail him. You've got dirt on this man and a few extra bucks won't hurt."

She stopped, waiting for a reaction.

"The blackmail was my idea," he finally stated.

Reeling in her shock, Abby nodded.

"But," Steffan interrupted swiftly, "I did not carry through with it. He had a beautiful home with a beautiful family. He helped take truly horrible people out of this world. For this month, I enjoyed Gregory's company as opposed to destroying it. This is why him leaving worried me. I believe those people who knew about him, had something to do with this."

"Like what?"

"I do not know. They were aware of his status, but I don't think they wished to blackmail him. He spoke with them often, but did not repeat anything to me. After a month, he simply vanished. I never heard from him ever again."

"How did you know he contacted them?"

Steffan mumbled something underneath his breath.

"What?"

"Sarah Kappel. If you find this woman, she will help explain the rest."

With that, the man stood uncertainly.

"I am very sorry for contacting your father," he declared, eyes focused on her. "I would have never done so had I known what kind of man he was or the trouble he would become mixed up in. His disappearance is my fault as are the problems I have burdened you and your mother with. I recognize this and only wish your forgiveness one day."

"Wait," Abby urged, seeing him ready to bolt, "I think you're afraid of saying the rest. I think you know who these people my dad went with are. I think you know just as much as Sarah Kappel does. If you've told me this much already, why not say the rest?"

Steffan sighed, clenching his weak fingers.

"My guilt outweighs my courage at this moment."

He turned to look at her.

"But perhaps...if you wish to stop by tomorrow morning, I can be of more help. By then, I hope I will be ready to do the right thing and tell you everything. But know this...I am unaware of what happened to your father. And him leaving my address on the back of a postcard indicates he trusted me far more than I trusted myself. So please, come over tomorrow. With your friend as well. He has been listening in the kitchen for some time. Now, I must depart."

Before she could throw in a word, the man fled to the front hallway. Soon after, the slam of the door met her ears.

APHAPHAPHAPH

By the time Abby spoke again, four hours later, Heiter was making dinner. They'd both skipped lunch, and Abby wouldn't have eaten it anyway.

_What kind of trouble did you get mixed in with, dad?_

The blackmail wasn't so surprising, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out how Steffan found out.

_Maybe he's lying about finding out on his own. Maybe these mysterious people who approached him, knew already. Put the idea in his head so he'd lure my dad here._

But that sounded like some ultra-complex Tom Clancy novel. What was the possibility that Steffan was merely a pawn in the scheme? That the real people who wanted to meet her dad, were the same ones behind his disappearance?

Steffan hadn't elaborated on how many or who these people were, but apparently he believed the name Sarah Kappel would help.

"I wish to know your thoughts."

For the first time, Abby refrained from finding his words amusing.

They were both sitting at the kitchen table. He'd just set her plate down, but all she could do was stare at it.

"This whole thing doesn't make sense," Abby admitted. "My dad leaving with what I assume to be the same people who told Steffan about my dad's profession. Why wouldn't these people just take the blackmail route like Steffan originally planned? The postcard was dated six months after he didn't come home. That gives me the information that he was alive for that long of a time and intended for either my mother or I to find out what happened to him...maybe ease our minds? He trusted Steffan to say the truth and believed he'd be gone for a long period of time. But did he even know how confusing his involvement was with all this?"

She looked up at Heiter.

"How about you? What do you think?"

Setting his fork down, Heiter rubbed at the table with a thumb.

"Steffan is not intelligent enough to have a motive other than blackmail. If he was involved with others, he was not made aware of their plans. But I do think he has an idea on what these people might have wanted. If he gave out a name to you. Sarah Kappel."

"I hope he wasn't cheating on my mom."

Heiter didn't reply.

"Ugh!" she cried, head clinking down on the table. "The closer I get to figuring out what happened, the more frustrating it gets."

"Self-abuse does not help."

Rolling her eyes, Abby glanced up.

"Neither does destroying doors. I remember how angry you were when I hid myself in that room. I can't believe I find it funny now."

The doctor pressed a hand over his mouth, eyes studying her.

"I was not angry."

"Bullshit," she laughed. "Unless banging against doors until they split open, is a German greeting, I'm pretty sure you're lying."

He looked away, but the corner of one lip tugged up in a silent admission.

"We should go see him now," Abby proclaimed. "I think he was ready to give us the information this morning, but talked himself out of it. If we're in his house, a safe haven for him, he may be more attuned to really explain what happened and what exactly my dad was involved with."

"You are sure?"

"Yes. Steffan might lose motivation tomorrow. He seems like a very weak willed man to me."

"Eat. Then we will go."

"Yes, Hitler," Abby mumbled, pulling the plate toward me.

"It's Heiter," he warned.

"That's what I said," she innocently replied, smiling at his glare.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"How long have you had your new car?" she asked, remembering she was the reason behind the disappearance of the first.

"It has been in the garage in case I needed it."

Nodding, Abby's eyes scurried around the area.

"Don't you ever listen to music in here?"

Heiter shrugged from behind the wheel.

"I do not find the need for it."

They'd been on the road for not even five minutes before Abby began peeking around for a CD case. The silence inside the vehicle only got heavier the more nervous Abby got about seeing Steffan again. The last thing she wanted to be when facing the man was nervous.

Around them, the November sky was a murky black, night rapidly descending at only six in the evening.

"Mind if I turn on the radio, then?"

The doctor turned to her, eyes unreadable in the dark.

"Fine."

Abby reached out and flipped through the stations. Unsurprisingly, most were German based. Talk shows, news, interviews. The man's radio stations included the works.

Finally, she was able to reach a station that played old rock n roll tunes in English.

Currently, 'Pinball Wizard' by the Who was ending its last notes.

The music worked its magic and eased away the tension Abby felt at meeting Steffan again. Such big of a mystery, so little answers.

_Did you go willingly with these people, dad? Did they threaten you? Threaten to expose you?_

Her fierce thinking was interrupted by the disk jockey's smooth voice seeping into every inch of the car.

"Never forget, the Bee Gees are proud members of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. This next one is for all you lovers out there. Stay happy."

Closing her eyes, Abby's cheeks began to burn as 'How Deep is Your Love' flowed through the speakers.

_"I know your eyes in the morning sun. I feel you touching me in the pouring rain. And the moment that you wander far from me, I wanna feel you in my arms again. And you come to me on a summer breeze. Keep me warm in your love and softly leave. And it's me you need to show-."_

The sheer sexuality of the song caused Abby to throw a few quick glances at Heiter. She loved the song personally, but it definitely took the award for being played during one of the most inappropriate moments in history.

Heiter glanced at her just as the chorus ended.

_"I believe in you. You know the door to my very soul. You're the light in my deepest darkest hour. You're my savior when I fall. And you may not think I care for you when you know down inside, I really do. And it's me you need to show."_

His gaze dropped, but she felt the same tension from him.

_"How deep is your love? I really need to learn. Cause we're living in a world of fools, breaking us down. When they all should let us be. We belong to you and me."_

Despite the manner of the lyrics, Abby found herself grinning.

"I love that song," she mentioned just as the Bee Gees faded away.

Her eyes met his once more.

"How about you?"

She knew a part of her just wanted to see him cringe, but then there was another side that was interested in his interpretation of it.

"It is a good song," he agreed.

Surprisingly, no mockery or sarcasm slumbered in his voice. It was genuine.

Knowing she should shut up, Abby firmly pressed her lips together. But this didn't stop her thoughts from falling out.

"When I meet new people, the first song we listen together to, becomes our song. For example, my exboyfriend Frankie and I first listened to Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd together. That became our song. Another exboyfriend, Travis, happened to have Gin and Juice by Snoop Dogg playing. Even though the moments were never appropriate, that became our song. And I've got a girlfriend from high school. First song we ever listened to together was Toxic by Britney Spears. Some things you'd just like to forget. Nevertheless, it was our song."

"What does this mean?" he questioned, not quite understanding.

"It means," Abby explained with another laugh, "no matter how awkward that was listening to, this is our song."

Heiter shot her a disbelieving glance, but stayed silent on the matter.

_One of the most romantic songs of all time happens to be the anthem of a complete madman and myself. Splendid._

But the amusement about the situation far overrode any panic or disgust.

APHAPHAPHAPH

The tall, two story house loomed over the winding pathway leading to it. It appeared Victorian in its entirety, thrown in with a few Ottoman type architecture. Mostly all a mahogany brown, the glass windows were like eyes into the mysterious structure.

"It's beautiful," Abby marveled as Heiter threw the car into park.

Although the entire place appeared dark, Abby guessed this was one of those houses that had secret passageways or storage areas invisible to prying eyes from the outside world.

Fighting off her shakes, she slowly opened the door and breathed in deeply with the strong wind blowing into her.

On the other side of the car, Heiter stepped out, locking the vehicle.

Together, the two journeyed forward, feet crunching over the rocky path.

The night air was chill and Abby wished she'd have asked for a jacket. But that meant he'd have to give her something of his and if that really made him uncomfortable enough to buy her new clothes, she wasn't going to ask. No need to run up her debt.

"Wait," she expressed, hand mindlessly reaching for his arm.

Heiter paused when she wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

Turning to him, Abby gestured with her head, toward the door.

It was partly slid open.

They turned to each other once more, having a silent conversation with just their facial expressions.

"I'll go first."

Before he could stop her, Abby stalked forward determinedly.

Her eyes picked out nothing out of the ordinary while climbing the steps and just before opening the door further, she observed the handle as well as the entryway.

"Doesn't appear like its forced entry," she mumbled to the man beside her. "No broken locks or damage to the wood here."

She refrained from touching the entry, and instead, peeked at the oppressive darkness inside the house.

"Steffan?" Heiter called from outside the door.

Neither was surprised with the lack of response.

"Car is gone," Abby mentioned, meeting Heiter's fixed gaze. "Think he left?"

"One way to find out," he replied.

Nodding, she gently eased open the door with one hand. The light from behind them certainly didn't help illuminate much of the front hallway.

Quietly, Abby stepped inside the home. It held a woodsy scent, as if the building had been completed only recently as opposed to more than a decade ago.

She ventured forward as Heiter entered behind, eyes scanning the darkness.

"Is there a light switch anywhere?" she whispered through the thick black.

Just as her next foot came down, the weight underneath it grew slippery. With an oof, Abby flailed her arms, but could do nothing as she collapsed down on to her butt.

"Abby?" came Heiter's voice from somewhere above.

"Yeah," Abby answered, surprised the man used her name. "I'm fine. Just slipped in-."

Her hands felt alongside her curiously.

"I found the switch," he voiced from a few feet away.

Abby nodded into the darkness, fingers rubbing into the liquid she'd slipped in. Whatever it was, there was a lot of it.

With a sudden blast, the lights flickered on. Glancing down, Abby's heart nearly stopped.

"Blood," she immediately said, keeping back her panic. "I slipped in blood."

The red liquid successfully ruined her jeans, smeared into the fabric from knee to ankle. She gathered her butt area held some as well, as did her coated, scarlet fingers.

She glanced up at Heiter's wide stare.

He offered one hand, and Abby carefully wrapped both of hers around it, lifting her weight off the slippery pool.

As soon as she was on her feet, she glanced down. The puddle had been large, but led away into another hallway.

"C'mon," she gestured, ignoring her bloodied clothes for the time being.

They followed the splatters of blood on the wooden floor, careful not to turn a corner too carefully lest they lost their trail. The very trail seemed to lead along the lines of a chase. Short little drips would patter the floor, then bigger, fat drops. Whatever had occurred happened in the front hallway. That's where the biggest amount of it was. But someone winded it through the house.

The trail abruptly stopped in front of a closed doorway, but a handprint outlined the doorknob.

Suddenly, Heiter fumbled around behind him. She watched the movements carefully, until finally, he pulled out a metallic gun.

"Always carry that around with you?" Abby asked in slight amusement.

"I was hesitant to let you see I had it."

"Just as long as you don't use it against me," she answered, glancing back to the door.

With a final inhale, Abby wrapped her palm around the door and pushed it open.

It took a few moments to comprehend just exactly what she was observing on the bed.

"Is that-?" she gasped.

Heiter's silence answered her.

Lying grotesquely on the bed in a pool of his own blood, with three bullet wounds in the back, was Steffan Manhkompf .

* * *

><p><strong>Really enjoyed writing that chapter. Hopefully you enjoyed reading. And...check out How Deep is Your Love by the Bee Gees. It's a 70's classic and I had a huge grin on my face, writing the scene in the car when the song played. The awkwardness and hilarity of the situation was only something that could happen to Abby. Let me know your thoughts in a review.<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you very much for the reviews. They help INCREDIBLY. Honestly, you don't even know how much they mean until you start writing. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Anywho, I've had two of my reviewers wonder about my absence and the future of this story. So...I want to make this clear because I hadn't earlier. I WILL complete this story. No matter how long it takes (I'm trying to get at least two chapters up a week), or how bad they are, I will get this finished. Because I've had the end of this story made up since the idea first began in the summary. I'm one of those people who can't write unless they already have an ending (susceptible to change, of course). But know this...I will finish it. Hopefully that doesn't discourage you to stop checking your mail for a new chapter. And on we go, since the plot kind of thickened. Don't ever rule out anything and I hope you enjoy as things start picking up!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13 - Mundane Murder<strong>

They rode back to the house in a brutal silence. Several times, Abby urged her lips to open just so she'd say something. Anything regarding what they'd seen. But Heiter's promise of everything being handled, silenced all protesting thoughts.

Currently, she rode without jeans, shoes or socks. While once this would have made her meek and embarrassed, now it was necessary. Her blood stained clothes could easily leave behind traces in the vehicle or on the cobblestone outside. There could be no chances taken as to their appearance at the home.

"I will call my acquaintances," Heiter had promised, referring to the same men who'd made sure Lindsey and Jenny hadn't said anything.

Surprisingly, it was one of those rare moments where the man actually was trying to calm her anxiety, probably due to her fainting spells most likely.

Abby wasn't normally one to panic, but seeing her only source to discovering what happened to her father, lay in a mangled pool of his own blood with three bullet holes through the torso, seemed to sprout a touch of unease within her.

_Steffan said he was sworn to secrecy. What if whoever it was he was sworn to secrecy to, found out about him meeting me? But no...that doesn't make sense. If they were aware of that, then they'd have found out Heiter's home was the center of the meeting. They'd have given him a visit as well._

Closing her eyes, Abby pressed a tired hand over her eyes and let out a timid sigh.

"According to body temperature and the texture of the blood, Steffan had been dead sometime between two to four hours. Within an hour of returning from your home," Abby mumbled, rehearsing the facts while they were still fresh. "The significant blood loss inside the home indicates that his guest was invited in and was in fact, someone Steffan personally knew. After the shot was fired, Steffan had to have been able to knock his assailant over. Otherwise, he would have never made it through his home. Following the blood stain pattern, Steffan began to lose control of his footing sometime between the den and his bedroom. Once inside the bedroom, I cannot determine what he considered doing. However, his murderer entered shortly after and managed to permanently silence the man. Perhaps Steffan was trying to retrieve a secret weapon within his mattress. Damn it, I should have checked there."

The last words came out an aggressive mutter, but already, Abby's panic was disappearing. It always did when the facts became less obsolete and the truth revealed itself.

When she glanced over, Abby found Heiter studying her. He seemed just as puzzled at her outburst as she felt toward Steffan's murder.

"Courtesy of my dad," she expressed with a humorless smile. "I theorize when a body is presented."

"Your age deceits your intelligence."

Now it was Abby's turn to study him in surprise. She wasn't sure if he was just trying to make her feel better - an anomaly of its own - or if he genuinely believed his words.

Whatever the reasoning was, Abby's mind forced itself back into action.

"What are your friends going to do?"

The doctor no longer cringed at the term.

"Disposing the body and cleansing the area. If they decide to dust, your fingerprints will be everywhere."

Abby's eyes squinted, searching for his hands.

"Were you wearing the gloves the entire time?" she questioned, angry she hadn't thought of doing so herself. But it wasn't like she was expecting to find a dead body either.

"I wear them only when entering a home not my own," the doctor mentioned.

He didn't elaborate, but Abby, on a roll, attempted to find the reasoning behind the method.

"Just in case you decide to kill them," she surmised.

Heiter didn't answer.

"Okay. So your friends are going to clean up the mess. But we've still got to determine why he was murdered."

"Your thoughts?"

Pausing, Abby mused over her assumptions. Then, at the neutral tone Heiter had developed. He seemed just as removed as she felt. In fact, on normal circumstances, neither of them should have reacted to the dead body the way they did. He with casual indifference and she with morbid curiosity. In some aspects, they were the perfect crime fighting duo.

_I can't become as cold as him. If I lose my compassion for the victim, who knows what kind of person I'll end up as?_

Well, actually, she had the answer to that. He was sitting mere feet away from her.

"I think someone knows I'm in Germany," she stated, more sure of the statement now. "Someone Steffan was nervous about."

"They do not know your location," Heiter added. "Or you would be dead as well."

"But I know how they might have discovered it."

This time, her nervousness piqued.

For a short moment, she threw a few glances at the doctor, unsure what his reaction would be to the request. He'd been so intent on keeping a firm hold on her that a sudden loss of power may very well mean her death.

But she also remembered his words. Her fascination with the mystery of her father would only grow the longer it remained unsolved. Surely, he'd understand that?

"I have to go back to Berlin. To get my passport, money, and anything else I left in my hotel room," Abby said, keeping her voice confident and stern.

Just as she imagined, Heiter didn't reply right away.

"If you don't take me, I will find a way there. Even if I have to crawl," she threatened.

"I am not opposed to the idea."

"Really?"

The second look he threw her, gave away the answer.

"Tonight?"

"Yes," Heiter agreed. "Gather everything you have. We leave shortly after."

Abby nodded while her thoughts spun around in a whirlwind.

Once Steffan's death had been absorbed, the next awe came from Heiter's attitude. The man wasn't just being helpful. He was being...kind? Was that even possible?

_Why am I thinking about the madman when I should be picking out the reason Steffan was murdered? _

Abruptly, Abby's mind sank back into the complex events of the entire day. It was time to reexamine everything and figure out why the only man with information regarding her father's disappearance, lay murdered in his bed.

APHAPHAPHAPH

The entire task of collecting her items went swiftly. Nearly everything she owned were clothes. Heiter had burned all of her possessions, but re-payed somewhat by the clothes she now wore. A new pair of jeans had quickly been tugged over her freezing legs as soon as she'd entered the home.

After she was done, Abby watched the man stroll from room to room to make sure everything was tidy. Not because of some winter cleaning fetish, but because he didn't want her traced back to him. At least that's the way she thought of it.

Which wasn't a bad thought. It hopefully meant this would be one of the last times she ever saw the place again.

But it also depicted his commitment to her in a way. If indeed people were searching for her, Heiter was allowing his safety to be jeopardized by traveling and continuing to help. She knew she shouldn't think of it in such a generous way, but the longer she did, the less it seemed to matter.

However, it was seeing the doctor take in his paintings longingly that finally did it.

"You don't have to help me," she blurted. "The last person who did, ended up murdered. Just drop me off at the Berlin Inn and let me continue the search alone. It's not worth it to you...especially if you die."

To her befuddlement, Heiter shook his head.

"I am involved in this mystery as well as you. I also have the resources."

Crossing her arms with her bag of clothes clenched between two fingers, Abby lifted a brow.

"Are you sure? Last chance."

The man hardly blinked.

"Yes."

Within minutes, Heiter had made his phone call and the two were back inside the vehicle, cruising into the night.

As Abby glanced back at the hellish home from in between the trees, she did something she hadn't done in a very long time. She prayed. Prayed that this would be the final time she was ever inside, near, or on the premises of Heiter's home.

APHAPHAPHAPH

When 30 minutes had passed by and Abby was ready to fall into a restless sleep, she felt a gentle nudge on her shoulder.

Turning, Abby accepted the slip of paper Heiter handed over and wiped at her bleary eyes to gain a better look.

The car light turned on as her eyes scanned over the scribbled writing.

"Sarah Kappel," she read, curious eyes turning to Heiter.

"When you stepped out of the home after seeing the body, I looked around the man's room. This was stuffed into his desk drawer. He dated the note at the bottom."

Observing the scribbles again, Abby successfully picked out not only the current date, but squinted at what was written underneath her name.

"Do...do you think he knew they'd come for him?" she questioned.

"I do not know."

Beneath Sarah Kappel's name was a number. Abby recognized the separated digits as an area code, followed by the customary phone number in the country. And beneath that was an address.

"Neuruppin. How far north is that?"

"An hour. Perhaps tomorrow we shall take the trip?"

"Fantastic idea. If you hadn't found this, we'd just be stuck with the woman's name."

"You should sleep. I will wake you once we are at the hotel."

For a moment, the auburn haired girl pondered over how to ask the next question.

"I don't like expecting you to provide me food and shelter," Abby admitted. "So when we get to Berlin and check in - somewhere isolated, I imagine - I'm paying for the stay and for the food."

"Unless you have false identification, you will not do that," Heiter argued. "If you are indeed wanted, they will look for your credit card to be used. You may not enjoy it, but you will stay under my name."

Only the thought of her dad prevented Abby from disagreeing.

"Fine. But don't be angry when your money runs out. I'm a high class lady."

She could practically feel Heiter's eye roll.

"I have enough money for you, I am sure," he responded.

The soft hum of the vehicle rushing through the thick, black night eventually lulled Abby into a tense sleep.

APHAPHAPHAPH

She was still in dream land when Heiter's voice broke through her subconscious.

"Are we here?" she mumbled with a raspy voice.

"Yes."

The bright lights of the city blinked through the glass windows, blinding the girl enough to close her eyes for a few moments.

"My room number is 245," Abby informed. "You should find my passport and other belongings by my bedside. Ignore the papers I have scattered across the floor. They're nothing but print outs I had when first attempting to decipher Steffan's location. Insignificant now."

They had both agreed sometime during the trip that he would be the one to enter her room. If she was being tracked, information would be leaked to the person doing the tracking. Then, her location would be known and she'd be in a deep pile of trouble.

"Get any spare clothes I have. God damn...it's been so long, I can't even remember what I left in there. If you suspect that I might want it, bring it. That goes for the underwear as well."

His brown eyes found hers in the dark and she couldn't help but grin at the slightly exasperated look falling over his face.

"Good luck," she offered. "And try not to imagine the people inside as your future experiments."

That comment earned her a glare. But again, because something had shifted between them, the glare had lost its maliciousness. What it was replaced with instead, Abby couldn't quite pin point.

The doctor turned to the Berlin Inn and ripped out the car keys.

"Stay," he ordered.

Too tired to deny his request, Abby only raised an arm in response.

Sometime between the time he departed and the time her hand switched on the radio, Abby's eyes slammed shut. Her pulse bounced like a basketball underneath her skin. All of the stress of the day was successfully seeping into her, ready to usher in another journey to the familiar darkness.

_I'm going to run Heiter over with his own car if this fainting becomes a chronic event._

And back into the darkness she went.

* * *

><p><strong>Lol...how many times have I ended a chapter with Abby fainting? But hey - the man has put her through a lot and now with what's going down, she has proper reason to not be able to control herself. Also, if you thought Abby got over Steffan's death a bit too easily, I just want to note that she really didn't know the man too well, and because she'd been around stiffs so often as a child, the prospect of death no longer really frightens her. Also, she wasn't there for the murder, unlike the German man Heiter had killed beside her in his basement. Because Abby was able to witness the murder and understand the guy's life and realize he had family, made him more real to her, and easier to sympathize for. But she was also concerned about her reaction to Steffan's death. She's afraid that if she continued to react in such a manner, she'll end up like Heiter. Well...let me know your thoughts in a review!<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you for the reviews, as always. I love hearing your reactions to whatever you find interesting. I would have never imagined any reviews, to be honest, when I first began writing this. Again, a heartfelt thank you for everything everyone's said to keep me writing this long. If you haven't noticed, each chapter are two words from the alphabet. So approximately 26 chapters I'm going to do. Maybe with the exception of X, Y, and Z. Depends if I come up with anything for them. So, onwards we go!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14 - Never Needed<strong>

The night of Steffan's murder passed by in black and white glimpses. For example, Abby remembered falling asleep after Heiter had left to get her things, but she didn't remember him coming back. Minutes or hours later, she awoke to find both of them on the outskirts of Berlin. The city lights gathered in one big pile a few miles away.

"Where are we?" she managed to mumble, only half coherent.

"Somewhere undetectable for now."

It took a full three minutes for the words to make sense in Abby's mind.

"I'll just sleep in the car."

More darkness entered her soon after.

She had no true sense of time. Snarly dreams found their way to her, morphing into nightmares whenever guilt sprouted up at not having done enough. Abby wasn't sure what exactly she was apologizing for. Her dad's disappearance? Steffan's murder? Or maybe the German man she had made a duty to forget because his senseless death saddened her far more than she was used to?

But through this murky land of thorns, bright light did seep in.

The next time her eyes opened, it was to greet the morning. The only difference was her surroundings. Definitely not inside of a car.

Instead, she slumbered in a bed with thick, wool covers warming her chill form.

Wisely, Abby blinked a few times, getting used to the sudden brightness.

Once her eyesight adjusted, she observed three rectangular windows facing her. Through their transparency, she could see the skyscrapers of Berlin and hear the traffic noises blasting away the nearby birds.

Stretching her arms high above, Abby hopped off of the King sized bed. The room, nothing especially extraordinary, was large. Larger than any of the bedrooms inside Heiter's home. In fact, Abby felt a ridiculous urge to see if the walls would echo the sound of her voice.

"San Francisco," she declared, voice breaking through the thick sleepiness in her throat.

Just barely, Abby heard the same vibrations mimic her back.

With an accomplished grin, the girl's eyes fell to a nearby desk. More importantly, what sat on it.

"Thank God," she muttered, sprinting to the bag.

Inside laid her passport, her wallet, various hygiene products, and about a weeks worth of clothes. Often, the days blended together inside the hotel. Jeans and shirts would be reworn and whatever she was done wearing, would be thrown into the washing machine on her floor. Sometimes she'd be so focused on whatever she'd been studying, the clothes in the washing machine would be picked up days later.

Glancing around the room, Abby caught the sight of a door leading into a bathroom.

_I could be stranded in Antarctica for all I care. Just as long as there's a shower._

APHAPHAPHAPH

A black tank top slipped over her form, one she hadn't worn in a ridiculously long time due to a certain man's fetish for terrorizing people. Not that she was naming any names. Old, torn blue jeans wrapped loosely around her and with the shower, Abby felt like the world's cleanest woman.

When voices met her ears, she ran a final hand through wet locks, shaking the strands loose. Then, she edged open the door and slipped into the carpeted hallway.

Only a few steps were taken before she noticed Heiter's form in a makeshift kitchen.

"Hi," she greeted somewhat awkwardly, remembering he had carried her from the car and into the bed. Nothing says trust between two individuals like tucking someone into bed.

"Abby," he responded neutrally. "There are three men I would like you to meet."

Nodding, she watched his eyes slowly fall over her form. There was a minute of prolonged silence.

"Am I wearing the wrong clothes?" she asked, fighting back the urge to cover up the skin showing. The heat from the shower shot up her body temperature.

The doctor shook his head and gestured her to follow.

In the den stood just as he'd described - three men side by side.

"This is Rudolf."

The first man in the line, stepped forward. He had thin, brown hair and a walrus sized mustache giving his appearance that of a jolly man. Only his ice blue eyes deceived him from having a comforting presence. Just glancing at the man's eyes told Abby he'd often been on the wrong side of the law and had no problems being there.

"Abby Post," she introduced, shaking the man's firm grip.

Rudolf didn't say anything, but he offered her a nod.

"His partner in the law department, Jakob," Heiter mentioned.

The second man stepped forth as well. Perhaps not even a full year younger than Rudolf, Jakob's blonde's wavy hair ended in wisps and the depression lines on his face indicated the stress of his job. His scrawniness didn't help either.

"Josef performed on my lovely daughters," Jakob informed, his grey-blue eyes a fraction kinder than Rudolf's.

It was seeing the appreciation there which really blew Abby away. Because of Heiter's actions, Jakob's daughters were alive.

_This would be a great Twilight Zone episode._

Both men spoke through thick accents, but Abby had no trouble detecting their meaning. So much of Heiter's complicated wording taught her to figure out the complex German accent.

Once the men had both stepped back, Heiter introduced the final person. He too was male, but about half the age of either men.

Forest green eyes and black, shaggy brown hair with sideburns were a part of the man's features. The lop sided smile eased tensions in the room as well.

"This is Klaus. He studied medicine in the University of Berlin and is now a psychiatrist."

Puzzled, Abby offered a hand and relaxed when Klaus shook it. He looked right at her and the lack of malice in his gaze was something quite relieving considering the other three men were masters of the stare.

"I understand Rudolf and Jakob's presence, but why Klaus?" Abby questioned, turning toward Heiter.

Before the doctor could explain, Klaus spoke up. In a very clear English, minus the g's and h's.

"I am aware of your grave situation thanks to Jakob."

Jakob didn't say anything about the acknowledgement, so Klaus continued on.

"Mrs. Kappel is one of my patients. I hand deliver her medication. If you are not myself, a gardener, a family member, or security, you will not be allowed on the premises."

"You're going to help us get on the property?" Abby said, filing in the blanks.

"Yes."

"That's really nice of you. But do you mind me asking...why?"

The other men had been paying careful attention to their conversation. All eyes were on Klaus to respond.

"I lost my father at a young age," he admitted. "He lived in East Germany during communist rule. One night, the packaging company he worked for recruited a group of men to take a business trip to what was the Soviet Union at the time. Claimed it was a retreat for a few days. That was the last time I saw him."

Eyes wide, Abby's brows knitted together.

"Did you ever find out what happened to him?"

Klaus bit at his lip, the first signs of anger blasting through his eyes. But quickly, it faded.

"I did find out, but not for a hell of a long time. Not until communism fell and some of the KGB's records became public. Apparently, one worker at my father's company was a Western sympathizer with ideas to spread democracy in the communist East. The government couldn't determine who, so they took everyone that worked on my father's floor. He was wrongfully tortured before the real man became apprehended. Because my father survived with the knowledge of what occurred, he was killed to prevent publication of his story."

Abby kept back any urge to feed him her sympathy. She was in the presence of people who scowered for such weaknesses. But, she did reach out a hand. And to her relief, Klaus took a firm hold of it.

"I appreciate you having the guts to help me," she thanked in her own way.

"It's hell, not knowing. This opportunity blindsided me, but if I can prevent another person from going through the terror I did, it would be well worth it."

Their enclosed hands stayed together an entire minute before being interrupted by a clearing of the throat.

"Now, Miss Post. You and I must have a chat," Rudolf expressed. "In private."

Abby glanced at Heiter, but the man nodded his head in affirmation.

"If I scream for help," she mentioned just as she passed the doctor, "you better get your German ass in there."

A reluctant lifting of the lips was her only reply.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"I just wish to ask you general questions regarding your father," the man began.

"Such as?"

Rudolf brought his hands together and gave a big bellied sigh.

"You heard the name Steffan as a child. Any other information you can think of?"

"No."

"You sound sure."

"I've had twelve years to think over the time spent with my father. I assure you, anything I've said, Heiter is aware of."

This time, Rudolf's steel gaze softened in confusion.

"Are...you two-?"

Widening her eyes, Abby quickly shook her head.

"Not in a million years."

"I did not think so," Rudolf inferred. "He is an emotionless man. You must imagine my surprise when he calls me to ask about a serial killer from the USA. Then, days later, to clean up a murder before the police can tie you to it. And now, he is sheltering you from harm. I would have never thought this to be the same Josef months ago."

Hesitating, Abby's gaze fell to her shoes. She felt an uncomfortable prickling in the pit of her stomach from Rudolf's words.

"This may sound cold, but my only focus at this point is finding out what happened to my dad," she admitted, pulling at her fingers. "And anytime I feel guilty for thinking that way, I realize Heiter could have killed me numerous times. He's also the reason for a man's death and three people's near unethical treatment. A part of me, as sick and disturbed as it is, will forever be thankful. If Heiter hadn't come along, I would still be wandering around a forest, searching for Steffan's address. But I've got to consider what's happened as well."

Rudolf nodded, hands parting.

"It is wise to think this way."

Those were his only words on that matter and Abby didn't wish for him to elaborate.

"Josef has informed me your father was blackmailed by Steffan Mahnkompf. And you believe Steffan was informed of your father's identity by an independent group?"

"Does that sound too outrageous?"

"Not if we find a motive."

For the next half hour, the two scanned over the known information. Initially, Abby felt nervous about discussing such personal facts with a stranger. But, Heiter had more or less explained everything to Rudolf and their talking was nothing more than attempting to see the possibilities at every angle.

While indifferent, Rudolf was a talented detective. His mind analyzed as opposed to simply working for the hell of it. He offered more point of views along with a sordid history of disappearances. Abby wasn't sure what Rudolf's intentions were. The man couldn't have been helping her just out of the goodness of his heart. But she forced this unease away when they mutually agreed on a decision.

"I'll give you money to get some," she promised.

"Josef has agreed to-."

"No," Abby denied. "If he pays for one more thing, I'll feed him to a pack of wolves."

Rudolf's entire expression shifted into fascinated amusement.

"What?" she muttered. "The man will be back with his family."

The detective's lips parted, ready to say something, but at the last moment, he held back. Instead, a frown settled itself.

And his frown ignited a question within her that Abby immediately had long ago wanted the answer for.

"You're the reason Jenny, Lindsey, and for lack of a name, I'll call the Japanese man, haven't gone to the authorities. How did you do it?"

A sigh made Rudolf's mustache flutter. His eyes, shining only minutes ago, hardened.

"If you killed-."

"We would not be so rash. No, it was easier than that. Deportation."

Surprised, Abby raised an eyebrow.

"You just deported them?"

"Rather simple," Rudolf explained. "Once they came in to the station, I made sure to be the one who took their statements. I noted in my report, their claims to be unsound, and ordered them to all undergo a night's stay at a hospital. While there, another report was written stating each patient to have an illegal amount of drugs and alcohol in their systems. The report went through and back to their countries they went."

Shaking her head, Abby blinked rapidly.

"So if they ever tried telling their story-."

"No one would believe them," Rudolf finished. "And due to their "known" drug use, it would be difficult to enter the country again."

Abby was speechless.

"Well, shit. You guys are really good."

"Yes," the man agreed, "we are."

APHAPHAPHAPH

When Abby and Rudolf exited the room, they only found Heiter standing there.

"Klaus is testifying on a case for Jakob," Rudolf informed her. "He is not due to Mrs. Kappel's home until tomorrow. You can wait one more night, Josef?"

"Yes. This is okay with you?"

Feeling his stare reach her, Abby nodded.

So, Rudolf ushered himself to the front doorway. Just before he was out of the house and right as Heiter turned away, Abby slipped the detective fifteen euros.

"Pick something I'd like," she whispered with a smile.

Unsure if the detective's nod was an answer, Abby watched the man depart to his vehicle with a contained hope.

Then, she slammed shut the door and exhaled.

Heiter stood at the end of the entryway, observing her curiously.

"Have any thoughts of your situation?"

"Rudolf," she began, taking a step forward, "believes they found out I was in Berlin by accident...sort of."

At Heiter's puzzled expression, Abby continued.

"Just like you have friends in the justice department and the law department, so does this mysterious person or persons. They'd have to if information about my father was given out. Rudolf and I both believe Steffan was approached by more than one person with the information about my dad. Now, when I first came here, I hadn't planned on staying long. A month or two, at most. And although I did eventually end up paying for a six month stay, my travel visa expired sometime during my captivity. Germany will extend expired visas and put you on a holding list, so that's where my name went. Unfortunately, the hotel is informed of this and has an obligation to give my name to the justice department, just in case I try fleeing or permanently taking refuge in the country. Rudolf believes this is how they found out I was in Berlin. Tell me...when you went inside my room, did you find anything out of the ordinary? Like something had been shuffled through?"

The doctor paused for a moment, absorbing the great tide of information.

"Your passport was open on a table. Your wallet open as well, but nothing taken."

Although Abby had been gone for two months, she knew she wouldn't be stupid enough to leave her information for everyone to see. She'd have kept it in a secret location.

"They look at the passport and it confirms my identity," she relayed. "Look at my driver's license which gives away my state and address, and they know exactly who I am. Realizing I'm an unforeseen complication, they sever off the weakest link. Steffan. They knew he'd talk because he never carried through with the blackmail. Question is...have they silenced Sarah Kappel up as well?"

"Klaus called the woman while you were with Rudolf. She is fine and he is notifying her of the visit scheduled for tomorrow."

"What's wrong with her?" Abby asked, genuinely curious about who they were dealing with.

"Neurological damage common of schizophrenic patients. She acts out every now and then if medicine is not taken. She is aware we are coming as well. My name still has relevance in this country. Klaus explained I would see if any major surgery could be performed to fix the epilepsy slowly becoming more common."

"What else do you know about her?"

"Perhaps in her mid-40's. Lives with her husband, Ivan. His investments into East Germany's economy immediately after the fall of the Wall, paid off when the two sides reunited. Once the unified economy expanded, Ivan became a very rich man. No children. No previous crime records for either. They prefer the privacy, and their home has been gated for years. Ivan is on a business trip in Prague, or so Klaus has informed."

"I wonder why Steffan thought she could help us. If the woman is a bit gone mentally, what's to stop her from telling us the wrong information...if she gives us any at all?"

"All things I have wondered about myself," Heiter admitted. "But without her, there are no other options."

Sighing, Abby nodded. She glanced around the room, wondering what to do with herself. Prolonged thinking about the facts would only make her more anxious.

Luckily, it was her stomach that spoke up.

"You have not eaten," Heiter noted. "I can make something."

She didn't reply for a moment.

"Why don't we go out? Maybe some fast food."

The man visibly blanched, but she wasn't sure if it was toward the unhealthiness factor or the prospect of being in a social setting.

"What you made me was good. Hell, probably the most healthy I've eaten in a long time. But, I'm afraid I'll start pooping out potatoes at this rate. A nice hamburger and fries really would do the trick," she offered.

He still seemed hesitant.

"It'll be fun," she promised. "I'll talk to the drive thru window in a funny voice and they'll think I'm mentally diseased!"

"Well...if your voice did not do the deed, your face certainly would."

Abby's mouth charged open, but Heiter only shrugged. However, he wouldn't meet her eyes and edge of his lips twitched a bit at her expression.

"You are such a bastard," she laughed out.

"I would feel worse if you did not make it so easy."

Rolling her eyes, Abby nodded in an awed defeat.

APHAPHAPHAPH

The journey to McDonald's was actually enjoyable. Which is saying something considering the man beside her had nearly murdered her on more than one occasion.

She knew this was very uncommon. To share this type of bond with a captor. But as she'd discussed with Rudolf - it was her continued understanding of what he did to her that prevented Abby from forming an attachment to him. She did not remain so disillusioned to the gruesome facts.

Still, she had an irritating trait of seeing the best in people. And Heiter, while completely bonkers at times, almost passed for a "human being" on the way to Berlin and back.

The man had pushed her away when she attempted to creep over his seated form and yell in a half French, half Russian accent about wanting her French fries as crunchy as a human finger. She could barely contain her laughter when the man who worked the drive thru, asked her to repeat her order while Heiter barely held back his curses.

Once her food had been taken care of, they drove back in a comfortable silence. His vehicle reeked of salted fries and cooked hamburgers. She assumed him to be a health nut, but she did catch the few glances he'd thrown at her noisy fry devouring.

"Based on your hungry gaze at my French fries, I'm guessing you don't go out to eat often," she observed as the last major skyscraper passed by.

"I prefer to keep to myself," he defended.

"Because you don't like human beings," she finished. "Doesn't that ever get lonely?"

Surprised, Heiter tightened his grip on the steering wheel for a second.

"No."

But Abby didn't believe it for one moment. And the reason why was because he fixed a direct stare on to her while saying the word. As if his voice was saying no, but his eyes were disagreeing.

Of course she could not exactly determine this. His eyes were unreadable, as they always were.

_Why would he make sure to meet my eyes after saying that?_

"Excuse me for asking, but have you ever been married? Or in a serious relationship?"

The silence following her question was excruciatingly long. Multiple times, she believed he decided wasn't going to answer.

So, the green scenery passing by was her only sanctuary for asking such a personal question.

"Foolishly I believed a woman would bring me joy," he suddenly said, his voice low and just barely detectable. "Nearly a decade ago, I was going to have a wife."

Keeping her hands clenched to prevent a finger from straying to a French fry, Abby carefully observed Heiter out of the corner of her eye.

His admission stunned her. Whether it was toward the fact that he had once almost been happy or normal, she wasn't quite sure. But she did know that their conversation had steered in completely foreign waters. And while she felt nervous about him suddenly losing it, curiosity piqued just as prominently about his backstory.

She knew without a doubt that since his engagement a decade ago, this was the first time Heiter had decided speaking about it. Just in the timid tone of voice and sudden anxiety he displayed, informed her of this.

"What happened?" she asked gently.

"Another man."

Squinting, Abby met Heiter's forceful gaze directly. She didn't say anything, just merely stared back.

"The man told me about it before she did."

Widening her eyes, Abby looked back at the road.

"You called the wedding off?"

"Of course," he replied swiftly, and with a fair amount of hate. "The whore was carrying his child."

APHAPHAPHAPH

Neither said a word when he stopped the vehicle. His words and decision to open up for a moment had long ago vanished. But that didn't mean she had dislodged his words.

A part of her reasoned out this betrayal at not just toward women, but toward humans in general. Someone he had thought loved him, cheated and ended up carrying another man's child. There was no easy way to forget that kind of pain.

Of course his personality did not develop with just this single event. She guessed he had felt inferior in many ways during his life. Becoming a surgeon wasn't just a decision to help people. It ultimately made him God in a way. He wielded the decision to keep a person alive. Most likely, that's what intoxicated him.

All along, he had probably been antisocial. But with enough events such as his fiancé cheating on him (that sounded just as weird in her head), he could have steadily descended into an apathetic state where only his own survival and needs were important.

_Is it possible he's not actually mad? Just kind of got screwed over by life?_

Whatever the answer was, she didn't deny that he had a breakdown somewhere along the way. With the accumulation of his malice and distrust for everyone, it was no surprise for his tendencies to become merciless. Others had deceived and looted his trust. What should prevent him from doing the same?

This realization and sympathy of sort made Heiter much more realistic in her eyes. Knowing that he'd once been susceptible to the type of pain everyone has gone through.

"You will not speak a word of this to anyone," he threatened as she exited the car.

"I don't have a death wish," she promised solemnly. "And I'm sorry that happened. I've never really cared enough about my former boyfriend's to be upset when I found out they cheated."

His dangerous expression shifted into something different.

"This has happened to you numerous times?" he questioned.

"Well…yeah. You open your heart and you can't always guarantee to get it back in one piece. But that hasn't prevented me from searching. Although, I'm kind of a weirdo. So whoever this lucky guy is, he'll have to have one hell of an open mind. I mean, I don't even understand my actions half the time."

The man studied her curiously, but did not say anything else. So, the two ventured back into the house.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Rudolf returned to the house sometime around five o'clock. Prior to that, Abby had either stayed in bed and pondered over the importance of meeting Sarah Kappel, or re-read Catch-22. She was happily surprised to have found the small, paperback edition stuffed in between two pairs of jeans and wanted to thank the doctor for bringing it with him. But, the man had been doing his own reading and due to the nature of their conversation, realized this was for her benefit.

When the bell rang and Abby heard Heiter call for her, she realized with a sudden excitement, that things were going to change. Sort of. And this change excited her...if it turned out right.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Two hours later and Abby stared at herself in the mirror with a stupid grin. Rudolf's purchase sat discarded in the trash, and a pair of scissors lay haphazardly upon the sink.

"Are you finished?" Heiter called from behind the door, irritation firmly set in his voice. Neither she nor Rudolf allowed the man to see what was bought and she could clearly note the man's annoyance.

"Hold on, Kim Kardashian," she yelled back.

Shaking her head, Abby ran her hands through her hair. Having it stop just below her shoulders was a surprise, as was the new, thick bangs protruding from her forehead. But the trait that made her unrecognizable was the formerly auburn brown being transformed into a platinum blonde. Her green eyes soaked in the brightness and adjusted her face to appear not only European, but suave. Like she'd done it at a salon for $400.

During her conversation with Rudolf, they'd hypothesized the chances of whoever killed Steffan, also knowing what she looked like. So, she volunteered to alter her features. And now that she did, Abby was incredibly pleased with the result. Not that she didn't love her natural fiery brown.

Instead, it was like chopping off and painting away a part of her life she didn't quite care to go back to.

So, as casually as she could, Abby grabbed the bathroom door handle and swung it open.

The shock on Heiter's face was priceless.

"Awesome, no?" she asked, swinging her hair back and forth.

Heiter only continued to stare. In fact, he remained speechless for so long Abby formed the urge to slap him.

"I'm glad I'm an independent enough woman to love what I do with myself. Otherwise, your silence would be rather insulting," she expressed.

"It is different."

"Unrecognizable?"

"Yes."

Nodding, Abby crossed her arms and blew upward. Her bangs bobbled in mid-air for a moment before retreating to cover her forehead.

"That's what we're going for. I might have to change my personality a bit as well. Steffan noted the similarity between my dad and I just in the time we were alone. Whether Sarah met him or not, I don't want to risk her kicking us out before we have a chance to talk with her."

"I will make sure that does not happen," he promised, still studying her.

"Just don't pull out a gun. I'm depending on Klaus to make sure she's in the right mind," Abby warned.

His answer was interrupted by the shrill tone of a telephone ringing.

He raced to it, and Abby followed behind.

For a moment, she watched him listen as his brow furrowed. The entire time, he did not say one word, but his nods indicated the information to be important.

Finally, after three or so minutes of nodding, he hung up.

"What happened?" she asked, hands gripping on to the counter.

Heiter glanced at her once before speaking.

"Sarah Kappel committed suicide."

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><p><strong>Let me know your thoughts in a review!<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you for your reviews! Amazing inspiration! I just kind of wanted to mention this - don't think Heiter's gotten soft. I know I may have made him appear sort of broken because of his fiance cheating on him, but he was on the way to isolation and hostility before then. That event simply defined the rest of his actions. Cold, indifferent, and uncaring to any other person but himself. But damn...I seem to be changing that? Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15 - Ominous Operations<strong>

Abby stayed mute for a full hour. Her mind was on a silent overdrive, set in between frustration and hopelessness.

_No one wants me to find out what happened. That's exactly it._

Heiter only watched in that way of his which indicated a thousand things in a subdued manner.

"Do not think this the end," he offered, brown eyes unreadable.

Shaking her head, Abby stubbornly kept quiet. But, eventually, she answered him.

"This isn't the end," she agreed, glancing up at him. "In fact, this is only the beginning. I'm more determined than ever to not only find Steffan's murderer, but the reason why Sarah killed herself. Whoever this is that's scaring everyone, probably thinks they can prevent me from getting what I want. They won't."

Even he seemed surprised at the announcement. Or perhaps the harsh tone she'd taken on.

"I will find them," she vowed again, more to herself.

Because there was no beating around the bush anymore. This was the last person who would die protecting something that happened over a decade ago.

She briefly realized that the situation could not be good if two leads were cut off from her, but the same rash anger charged through this. It cared no longer of the dangers involved. She wanted answers and she wanted them now.

Rudolf, Jakob, and Klaus appeared at the house shortly after. Heiter speaking with them hardly registered to her, nor Klaus's decision to accompany her on the couch. All she did was stare frivolously off into space, attempting to wrap her mind around why this was a secret people were dying for.

Whether it'd been minutes or a full hour, Abby didn't know. But eventually, Heiter's stern voice pulled her out of the fast paced thinking.

"I must discuss matters tonight with Rudolf and Jakob," he informed. He no longer looked distrustful of leaving her alone. He knew, as did she in a way, that they'd be sticking together for this mystery until it was solved. "In Berlin."

The last statement barely processed and she only waved an annoyed hand at him, like swatting at a persistent fly.

"I'll stay with you," Klaus promised, eyes searching for hers. "Don't think you carry this burden alone. I had many dead ends while trying to find my father."

"Did your only leads ever get murdered? Or decide to commit suicide as opposed to helping out a girl who knows absolutely nothing? Were they selfish enough to leave you without that choice?"

She stood, ignoring the voluminous and threatening voice speaking for her. She knew deep down that none of them deserved the blunt of her frustration. But the hurt was unimaginably raw.

"And what the hell are you doing?" she turned her attentions to Rudolf. "I know you don't give a shit about people, but is this really the best you can do?"

"Abby."

Heiter's voice was firm and biting.

"Fuck you," she spat, glaring at the man. "When you lose someone so close to you and the answers continue to be obliterated, you can then tell me to calm down. I'm losing my dad day by day. I can't even remember what he looks like anymore. Don't. Tell. Me. I'm. Out. Of. Line."

By the time the last few words flew out, Abby's body shook like a wet puppy. The wall she'd built to keep back so much of her guilt and fear, slowly cracked within the concrete.

Before any of them could witness its crumble, she stalked out of the room. Through the kitchen, past a hallway and into her temporary room.

With a furious slam of the door, Abby's fingers tugged at her new blonde locks as her knees sank to the floor. In moments, she was reduced to a sobbing mess.

Tears poked out of the corner of her eyes at first, then decided on being more direct and succeeded in blinding her. But Abby welcomed this. She didn't want to see herself groveling. Herself defeated.

So for a few good minutes, she let out a superfluous flow of tears. For her dad. For whatever it is he had gone through. And for the complete anger she felt at Steffan and Sarah.

_How dare they take away the truth from me? Who is so close to breaking down and screaming out until my lungs are raw? Wondering, constantly. What the hell happened to my dad?_

By the time a soft tap befell the door, Abby's eyes were dry and sleepy. But her mind worked like a swift machine.

She was ashamed of the way she'd treated the people who probably had gotten her closer to the truth than she'd ever be. But at the moment, it wasn't a time to apologize. Not when she feared more outbursts in the future could destroy a former apology.

The tap continued, unrelenting despite her obvious need to disassociate herself from everyone else.

"Please, go away," she called through a scratchy voice.

Instead of heeding her warning, the door slowly swung open.

Abby felt the soft footsteps close in on her back, then pause once as if unsure. Finally, they continued until the person joined her on the floor.

"I'm sorry," she immediately bit out. "That was not one of my better moments."

Klaus shrugged, his green eyes solemn and honest. It was like observing an innocent pup.

"My fits were far worse," he mentioned after a moment, wrapping his arms around his knees. The posture made him look childish, but he was only copying her. "You are right. I never did have my sources of information murdered or decide to kill themselves. But I've felt the same raging frustration you're feeling right now. There are many people I hurt with my words that I am not man enough yet to apologize to."

Biting at her lip, a timid hand slipped under Abby's chin.

"How long did it take before you found out?"

The brunette gazed into open space. It was the first time Abby fully noted the extent of his own personal hell.

A person went to a psychiatrist because they were unsure about what their actions could indicate about themselves. Their own feelings. The purpose of them and potential effects.

Klaus, in his own way, appeared just as unsure. Only, he masked it better.

But how badly did his search affect his nights? Or his view of the world? Could such disappointment have deteriorated a part of him?

"I was about four. Hardly an age of spectacular memories, but I have this memory of my father tucking me in every night after getting home from his job. His job that just barely afforded us food and clothes and shelter. Communism fell about three years later and the records haven't been publicly released. However, friends I've gained over the years - sympathetic to my situation or perhaps searching much of the same answers - were able to sneak me a glimpse of some records in Russia. I'm twenty-six now, and two years ago I was able to finally put my mind at ease."

Their eyes stayed on each others as if by otherworldly force.

"Did it help...knowing what happened?"

He took in a deep breath, but his eyes barely flickered.

"Yes and no. I wish I'd read that he went peacefully. But that was hardly the case. Soviet prisons were some of the most intense cells of solitude and cruelty. On the other hand...I finally knew. No more wondering or worrying. I was able to get on with my life, even if a part of it was unlawfully stolen."

Abby nodded, lost in her own thoughts.

"Why do you really want to help me?" she asked.

One of Klaus's lips twitched before he shook off his stare.

"You remind me of myself. That's cliche to say, but the longer you live without the truth, the more hopeless telling it becomes. I really believe that a part of us dies when we give up. Whether it's for a short moment, or for as long as we continue to withhold that ability to overcome the obstacle we're faced with. I did find the truth. If I hadn't, I would have never become a psychiatrist. I would be so bitter and so lonely and so filled with grief that everyone else's pain would dull in comparison to my own. Whether you believe this could happen to you, that's your own call. But if I can prevent that kind of sorry excuse for a life for you, then maybe what happened to my father might make a little more sense."

She mulled over his tragic admission, wondering just how fresh his wounds still were. But none of this could be outweighed by the gratitude. Someone who was once in her place, understands her frame of mind, and knows that going home is not an option. That was a comfort she hadn't yet known.

"Tell me what happened," she said. "At Sarah's."

Klaus took in a breath, but otherwise, his body stayed at ease.

"Security guard found her with the pills."

"How do you know it wasn't just her schizophrenia?"

"If she'd been off her pills, I would know," Klaus said, sounding very matter-of-factually. "What she had clutched in her hand was the common sleeping pills you could find at the pharmacy. Except she'd taken ten times the amount recommended. There was also a suicide note."

Surprised, Abby pushed to her feet. She held out a hand for Klaus to do the same and when he finally stood to face her, she brought up a curious eyebrow.

"It only said 'I'm sorry'. Nothing else," he expressed. "We're still trying to contact Ivan in Prague. He's not aware yet. Suicide is always tough."

Abby's mind pulsed at the information.

"Is she still there?"

Klaus carefully studied her, eyes calculative.

"No. Police cleared the place and security's gone home."

She took a step back, eyebrows furrowed.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"You could get in trouble for what I'm thinking."

"For all the police know, I'm just gathering the unused prescriptions from her," Klaus informed. "Tell me what's happening in that head of yours."

Puzzled at the choice of words, Abby couldn't help but feel eager about her idea.

"I want to go to her house and see if we can get any answers."

Nodding, Klaus answered, "Okay."

"Aren't you-."

"Like I said - we're just going in to get medicine, if anyone is there at all. And I'm sure Josef won't mind."

For a moment, Abby had forgotten all about what Heiter's reaction to her wandering would be. But then again, with her outburst, hopefully he'd understand the urgency she was filled with.

"Do you know when they're going to be back?" she asked.

"An hour, maybe. I'll just call them and say where we're going."

At Abby's hesitancy, Klaus stopped the fingers dialing his cell.

"I've got my own suspicions...but what is the nature of your relationship with Josef?" he questioned.

"He's a-."

But Abby was at a loss. They weren't friends. They weren't sworn enemies either.

"An acquaintance," she finally answered.

Even that sounded odd.

"And you two-."

"Not in a million years," she found herself repeating, confused as to what in their actions made them appear so chummy in the sexual way.

"Why do you think that?"

"I don't," Klaus admitted, surprised at the thought. "Just had to make sure. His constant isolation would really be damaging if you were with him."

"What?"

Now she was interested _and_ confused.

"I studied psychology in the university," Klaus explained. "Josef's isolation from others and his emotions, are subtle, but there. He's like Hannibal Lecter - without the charm."

"You noticed that just in the time spent around him?"

"Among other things I won't divulge into since you're his acquaintance. I don't discriminate against people's actions. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of the potential hostility and wariness he has for others."

"Yes, I'm aware."

And she was. Actually, she had the sudden urge to divulge her two month vacation to Klaus. But this information was hardly relevant. It happened and someone else's sympathies couldn't change that. She'd survived. That's all that mattered.

"No, he's just helping me find out the same thing you are. Go ahead and call him. Tell him we're going no matter what he says."

APHAPHAPHAPH

The drive to Neuruppin seemed to take forever. Abby hadn't asked what Heiter's reply was, but she found herself angry at the thought of planning her actions around him. It was a trait common of a victim and she was hardly that anymore.

Regardless, a part of her was worried that he'd hop in his car and speed after them.

"You're fidgety," Klaus noted, taking her in.

Abby offered a small smile, but didn't say anything back immediately. Instead, she focused on his eyes. When alone, the nature green tended to be the most expressive orbs Abby had ever gazed into. They were warm and sophisticated and truthful. Whatever Klaus had to hide, one look at his eyes would show his experiences.

She didn't know where this sudden observation came from, but soon, her eyes couldn't help but admire the curve of his jaw and the patch of dark brown forming there. The trail pattered around his chin and his red lips every so often would purse in concentration.

_I guess with all the time spent in Heiter's presence, Klaus's face is like a canvas of light, color, and action. A beautiful canvas, I might add._

Blushing at the thought, Abby turned away before her treacherous eyes could deceive her intentions. The man was doing her a huge favor by taking the trip to Sarah's house. She wasn't about to ruin it by commenting on the physical attributes of his features. No matter how handsome they appeared.

So, she answered him dully and without much consideration for her own feelings. When entering Sarah's house, she couldn't afford to be distracted.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Neuruppin was a massive region with sub-cities off the Rhin river and beautiful, magnificent buildings. All of Germany in fact carried that ancient, European flair that set it distinctly apart from the New World. But this area in general seemed to magnify the beauty tourists flocked overseas to snap pictures of.

"Minus the homes, this could be any town back in my country," she muttered, eyes taking in all of the lights at once.

Night had already descended, but this didn't darken the city any. In fact, the lights illuminated the streets, making it appear like it's own little luminous center.

"Do you miss your home in the States?" Klaus said.

"There wasn't anything for me there," she replied. "No family and no friends. I think that's why I like traveling. I can immerse myself within a town and just for a moment, believe I'm welcome."

When she turned to Klaus, the man was watching her curiously.

"Maybe one day settling down won't be so difficult," he offered.

They stayed silent after that, and Abby focused on memorizing the beauty for her own purpose. Just in case something happened to her, she'd be able to remember this last image stamped sharply into her head.

Sarah's house called for a deviation away from the lights and glamour of the city. If Neuruppin had a rural area, it wasn't far. Houses were spread in greater amounts once they began driving up a hill, but otherwise, it resembled the outskirts of any massive town.

"It's the first house on the right," Klaus pointed out.

Through the darkness, all of the petrified homes appeared malignant. As if their intentions were swallowed up inside the oppressive black, beckoning and warning you at the same time.

Finally, the house they'd been searching for, slipped into view.

"Why'd they feel the need for guards?" she wondered aloud, watching Klaus fumble in his coat pocket.

He pulled out a remote not much bigger than a garage door opener and pressed down on it. The rusty, aged gates slowly opened before them.

"My guess is Ivan's investments. Probably paranoid about someone trying to steal everything he's gained."

That sounded plausible to her.

As they drove down the curved path, the place wasn't so much of a house as it was a mansion. Green lawn extended on either side of them, touching far past the road. Hedges, a fountainhead, and a garden were objects Abby managed to pick out through the dark alone. The time and money it took to keeping the place looking attractive far exceeded perhaps even Heiter's income.

"Are you ready?"

Shaking herself out of the reverie, Abby noticed the vehicle had stopped at least a full minute ago.

"We might not find anything here."

"Now look who's the one with cold feet."

Sighing, Abby unbuckled herself and took in the gloomy home before her.

"Let's go."

APHAPHAPHAPH

The entire inside of the house was like a never ending labyrinth. Ivan and Sarah Kappel didn't only live in a luxurious mansion, they showed off the appropriate lifestyle.

Dinette sets, antique chandeliers, carpets flown in from the Middle East. Whatever was fancy, the Kappel's made a notable effort to purchase it.

Abby started on one half of the hallway staircase and Klaus investigated the other. Having the place lit was a relief, but knowing a life had been taken only hours prior, caused Abby to handle everything far more delicately.

This time she kept a careful watch on everything she touched. If a drawer was opened, she used Klaus's coat to open it. The man had been nice enough to lend it to her once the wind had caused an involuntary chatter to spill from her lips.

_What the hell am I really expecting to find here? A descriptive note explaining everything I want to hear? Fat chance._

She continued sliding open drawers, even knocking on the bottom to see if it was hollow. In the movies, sometimes the bottom held a secret compartment.

But the Kappel's did not.

"Did you find anything?" Abby finally asked after an hour of peering at replicas by Delacroix and Monet. At first glance, no one would have suspected them to be copies. But she detected the faint smell of oil on one piece, indicating the work to have been recently painted.

Another painting had the audacity to still leave paint bristles upon the piece. They were wedged underneath the paint quite cleverly, but the cheapness of it didn't blind her.

_They have to have known these pieces were replicas. Even if their guests didn't._

And like a light bulb illuminating, Abby's fingers shook off the coat sleeves and extended forward. They paused in their ascension however, when her eyes took in the four paintings to the left.

_Which one?_

Slowly, Abby braced the painting ahead of her with both hands and gently lifted the pieces off its hanger.

The wall remained bare, but this didn't discourage her.

Moving on, Abby repeated the same process on the next painting. Once it too was leaning against the wall, Abby's palm drifted over the wall. Nothing.

"What are you doing?"

Keeping back her shriek, Abby turned to Klaus. She'd nearly forgotten he was inside the house as well.

The man eyed her curiously, inquisitive toward her findings.

"Anything interesting?" she tried first.

"A few bank notices. The Kappel's fortune was slowly being sucked away."

Studying his speculative look, Abby shook her head.

"That's hardly a reason to commit suicide. I mean yes...if money was everything, it would be. But Sarah Kappel had bigger concerns than her fortune."

Klaus nodded before fixing his gaze on the pictures.

"They're replicas," he deduced after a moment.

"You see it as well?"

"The Stormy Sea in Etretat. I remember seeing it in a French museum when I was a teenager. This...it doesn't give off the same feeling Monet's did. There's something...off about it."

Abby observed it as well.

"Why are you taking them down?"

"It's a bit difficult to explain."

Throwing her a sarcastic frown, Klaus said, "I may not be graceful with art, but I know my way around the reasons behind actions."

Shrugging, Abby asked, "When did Sarah become diagnosed with schizophrenia?"

"She said the symptoms developed shortly after her 25th birthday. They became prominent, and properly diagnosed at age 33. She was 45 when she died."

Nodding, Abby's eyes strayed back to the paintings.

"A Young Tiger Playing With It's Mother. Delacroix's piece. Beautiful, but reproduced. In fact, all five of these paintings are. I can still smell the oils used to make them. Now...I'm going to assume Sarah was an intelligent woman with a particular fascination for art. I mean look at the surroundings. Also, she must have known these were duplicates. Everything in their home appears to have been bought with precise prior knowledge...except these paintings."

"And you think there was a reason she bought the duplicates," Klaus finished, stepping up to her.

"Yes. In her mind, I think she was trying to make sense of the responsibility looming over her. A responsiblity she'd inherited 12 years ago."

"Your father's disappearance?"

"It's a stretch, I'll admit. But what if whatever she knew had become so frustrating to keep in that she had to find a way to express it. So...these paintings come along. Fake, but they make sense in her mind."

"Perhaps a reflection of the failed duties she did not voice?" Klaus mumbled, eyes scanning each piece carefully. "Often, the mind of a schizophrenic, after a traumatic event, finds clues or meaning in otherwise useless objects. They are a meaning of escape."

"She knows they're fake, but sees an alternative use to them. Her husband, nonethewiser, buys them. His eyes are in the financial business, not art."

"And beneath the paintings..."

His comment trailed off, but she nodded in reply regardless.

"These are the only paintings I've found in the entire house since my visits," Klaus admitted. "I never took the time to observe them properly."

"Now we can."

So, Abby stood in front of one painting while Klaus ventured in front of another. They shared a gaze with each other for one second before lifting the paintings off.

"Shit," she murmured, eyes wide.

Klaus followed her awed stare and smiled.

"A brilliant observation."

Not quite hearing the words, Abby pressed two fingers over the wood. It was a four by four inch piece that hadn't been painted over by the bright white paint within the interior of the room. A small, finger sized hatch sat snuggled within the varnished cherry brown.

Slowly, she wedged her index finger within the space and pulled back the door.

Inside, papers lay crumpled atop each other - old but preserved.

Her hands immediately scooped up the pile. Some felt thicker than others while a few envelopes were stuck in between.

"Read them on the way back?" she suggested.

"Good idea. I don't know when Ivan's going to be home. Last thing we want is him to see us snooping around."

For a moment, Abby stayed rooted to the ground.

"Do you think Ivan knew about this?"

Klaus took a careful amount of consideration for this question.

"I doubt it. When money's on your mind, everything else becomes secondhand."

She glanced down at the pile, fingers buzzing.

_Please let there be something informative. Something that will keep me from ripping out my hair in frustration._

APHAPHAPHAPH

Despite the urgency she felt, they'd both decided on waiting until they were back within city limits before inspecting the letters. This drove Abby mad, but this information would be better understood under a light and experienced eyes.

So, the ride back was filled with a laced tension of excitement. Abby's knee rocked up and down, and soon, this excitement had her struggling to breathe properly.

Klaus looked over in concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled. "Just...kind of on edge."

A silence built in and Abby took that time to calm herself with steady breaths.

"I can't believe I hadn't thought of it," Klaus declared after Neuruppin had long ago passed by. "I was her doctor. I knew her symptoms. She used to not want to throw away scraps of paper because she thought they'd be useful in someway. But the paintings. God damn, Abby. That was really perceptive."

Shrugging, Abby felt another blush spread through her cheeks. She wasn't sure how to react to the praise.

"Thank you," she responded. "I think I only made the connection out of desperation. And the oddity of the paintings."

"You're-."

But he didn't finish his thought. Even when she glanced at him curiously. It seemed the man had wanted to say something important, but shied away from it.

This only warmed the blush in Abby's cheeks.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Jakob and Heiter watched Abby and Klaus enter the house just as eleven in the evening struck. She wasn't sure how long they'd been waiting, but Klaus offered a friendly smile.

"We found something," he acknowledged. "Well…Abby found it."

"I've gotten word back on the Geiper case," Jakob redirected. "You're testifying again tomorrow morning."

Klaus didn't visibly deflate, but Abby noted the slight slumping of his shoulders. Because it was around eleven in the evening, shuffling through the letters would take a good few hours.

"Get some sleep, Klaus," Abby offered, taking him in. "And thank you. For everything."

Her voice lowered at this and the same tingle shivered through her upon taking the deep green reflected in his eyes.

"Good night, Abby."

Before she knew what she was doing, Abby opened her arms. To her relief, Klaus didn't hesitate in greeting them with a great pull into his body.

The contact felt heavenly. Like a mixed sensation of warm flesh, strong muscle, and pleasant tightness. She forgot how long it'd been since she'd had any human contact with someone. To hear a heartbeat so close. To feel breaths flinging her blonde hair around.

Hugging Klaus was a sanctuary she did not take for granted this time around.

Their unification was interrupted by a cough, but this hardly penetrated the incredible feelings associated.

"Sorry," she mumbled, pushing back from him after a minute.

Klaus only grinned.

"I needed that after today. Have a good night, Miss Post."

With that, the man glanced over at Jakob in confirmation and the two voiced their goodbyes to the doctor before heading to the door.

Abby still watched the hallway even when the rumble of their joint vehicle met her ears.

When her eyes fell back to Heiter's, she fought back the need to step back. The gaze he aimed at her was a bit too reminiscent of the animosity he'd held toward her from her first few days of captivity.

Her relaxed smile receded and immediately, her body shifted into a defensive position.

But before she could analyze it more, Heiter's face smoothed over and all previous ill emotions were cleared.

"You found something," he indicated, eyes finding the stack of papers in her hand.

Shaking off her unease, Abby too drank in the papers.

"Yes. She had installed a secret, wooden compartment behind a replica of a Monet painting. I haven't looked them over yet. I thought we could do it together."

And for a brief second, Abby understood exactly why Rudolf and Klaus were curious about the nature of their relationship. She treated him like an equal. Not someone to be feared or loathed. Like his aloofness toward her didn't matter.

"That would be wise. Your German is not the best."

"Have you ever heard yourself speak? It's like your words were taken through a wood chipper," she relayed.

The man glared at her, but this made Abby's grin return.

"And...about telling you to fuck off earlier. That was my frustration talking."

Visibly surprised, Heiter said, "You are very honest, aren't you?"

Puzzled, Abby shrugged uncertainly.

"Why wouldn't I be? We both know when the other is lying. What's the point?"

"You do not know me so well," he defended.

"Don't I? We'll try a little test. You give me two statements. Let one of them be the truth, and the other a lie. I'll pick out which is which."

"Must I?"

"The 'I'm so disgusted an American girl thinks she knows me' look is unappealing. Go ahead."

Heiter thought for a moment, indulging into her experiment for unknown purposes.

"Your hair color is hideous. This mystery with your father will be solved."

Pondering, Abby placed a finger beneath her chin and tapped along with her train of thought. Only a minute went by before she voiced her findings.

"You're lying about the hair color."

"Prove it," he retorted.

"Had you thought my hair color despicable upon it's initial transformation, you'd have told me. You wouldn't pass by an opportunity to comment on my lack of physical appeal. Mentioning my hair color's unattractiveness is a bit short notice now. Also, you know we're going to find out what happened to my dad because you're determined to rid yourself of me. If this mystery isn't solved, I'd be stuck in your company for the rest of eternity."

He seemed perplexed by the last statement.

"Your whole speech about keeping me under your thumb until the mystery with my dad was solved? I took that to mean I could go home afterward?"

For a horrifying moment, Abby was afraid he was going to shake his head. Say no. Anything to disprove her words.

Instead, he finally responded, "Yes."

"So," she mulled, diving back to her theory, "I had to wonder if you were more dedicated to disliking my hair color, or to solving my dad's disappearance."

"This is how your brain operates?"

"Neat, huh?"

"Troubling. How did you complete activities without taking an hour to think over them?"

"Was I right?"

He didn't answer.

"Point proven. So now I'm in a good mood. You like my hair color and we're going to solve this mystery."

The roll of his eyes was a further self satisfaction for the blonde girl.

"The papers," he acknowledged. "Place them on the table."

Nodding, Abby glanced down at the messy pile in her hands and hoped desperately that a clue layed within the distortment of a turbulent, and dismal mystery.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope nothing was too confusing for you. Let me know your thoughts in a review because I appreciate them desperately :). And I actually am taking an Art History class online. It's not as descriptive as what I write on here, but I enjoy marveling and gazing at pictures greatly.<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you for the review! Very much appreciated. And on we go! Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16 - Peculiar Patterns<strong>

"What does that one say?" Abby questioned, blowing a stray bleached lock out of her face.

"Much of the same," Heiter answered, eyes peering intensely at the writing. "A letter to a lawyer in Berlin. She asks the man what the capital offense for-."

He paused abruptly, glancing up at her.

Abby met his gaze expectantly.

"Capital offense for what?"

"It does not matter," he decided, placing the letter down.

"Heiter," she bit out, pushing back her sweaty bangs, "we've been shuffling through papers for an hour. Besides the deed to the house and letters to her parents, there is nothing here. If there is information on that paper, you have got to tell me."

Picking up the paper once more, he reread the information.

"She asked the lawyer what the capital offense is for helping to conceal a murder."

Tearing away her gaze, Abby glanced down at her fingers. Letters written in hasty German covered her fingernails while a stack of envelopes in the right hand corner still waited to be opened.

"We don't know what she meant," she confirmed quietly.

When the man remained silent, Abby's glance turned into a glare.

"Read the date," he suggested, letter outstretched.

Grabbing the paper, she scoured the upper hand corner.

"February the 26th, 1998."

She knew Heiter would want the significance of the date to dawn on her, but a tiny hope inside still refused to believe it.

"My dad disappeared the year before in July," she responded evenly. "The postcard he sent was marked in December 5th of 1997. If he stayed alive for six months, what are the chances of him being killed in less than two?"

"Perhaps they were simply biding their time. Or Mrs. Kappel waited a few months before sending the letter. After the murder was completed."

"Stop it!" she spat, eyes two fiery orbs. "Stop saying he's dead."

"You are blind to the facts, Abby. They are not simple for you to grasp, but denying them will gain you nothing."

Scraping her nails across the marble table, the blonde girl shook her head vehemently. A few calm breaths pressed from her lips.

"I am going to follow this as if he's waiting for me to rescue him," she answered determinedly. "He is not dead."

Heiter appeared to want to retort, but for once, it was her forceful gaze that caused him to lower his eyes.

And back to the papers they went.

She'd passed all of the German written letters to him and he'd give her a brief summary of what each letter detailed. The one to her lawyer was as of yet, the most informative.

"I'll start looking through the envelopes," she tiredly motioned, grabbing the six she'd found inside the secret compartment.

Once the first was torn open with her finger, Abby sat back down and rubbed at her eyes. The excitement of the day was slowly starting to wear her out. Not only that, but she was beginning to lose faith. This time, permanently.

Sighing, she retracted the letter and was prepared to hand it over to Heiter when her eyes paused. Everything was written in English.

Her eyes scanned over the date and a further intake of breath was taken. November 14th, 2009.

"This letter," she mumbled, eyes wide, "was written on the day of her suicide...and-."

"What?"

Mouth open, Abby found Heiter's brown eyes glued to her.

"It's addressed to me," she voiced quietly.

At his perplexed gaze, the blonde found the letter again and began reading.

_**Dear Abby,**_

_**I know nothing of you, and I feel an apology is required. For my actions, for the actions of Steffan, and the other men who were involved in the atrocity that took place 12 years ago. Death has freed me, but you are still living, still grieving, and I only hope the answers I attempt to provide will finally ease your soul.**_

_**My shame is too great to put into words everything that happened. This is why I have assembled the other five envelopes. If your intelligence brought you this far, the findings inside will be easily connected in your mind. But know that I am sorry for standing by and saying nothing. Another regret that I hope death will relieve me of. It is cowardly, but I do not think I would be able to face your disappointment.**_

_**Study the items in the other envelopes carefully and you will find the answers you are looking for.**_

_**There is also something I wish to admit. Something Steffan did not know, for I did not wish to mention it. Something you must know, but I take no pleasure in informing you.**_

_**Your father - Gregory Post of Livonia, Michigan - is deceased. My hand shakes each time I struggle to write the details of it for the death he suffered was cruel and wrong. He was a good man with good intentions. The two men responsible for his death overlooked this and were only focused on their own sense of right and wrong. Their actions were in retaliation of something your father had done. And although your father is long gone, I want to thank him for doing what he did.**_

_**I hope what you find does not poison your life forever and I desperately hope you are able to eventually move on.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Sarah Kappel**_

Abby had been biting down on her lip so hard that she hadn't acknowledged the coppery blood blasting through an open gash. Her hands shook while her brain fought to drop the paper.

_He's dead?_

She closed her eyes, attempting to prevent the image of Sarah's words from overrunning her mind.

The shaking extended from her hand, to her body and soon after, her head hit the table with a thump. Squeezed shut, Abby kept back all tears while she quivered in silence.

_He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead._

The words repeated like a rhythmic metronome. Mocking, and hypnotic.

Heiter's hand uncharacteristically settled down on her shoulder, but the girl hardly responded.

"I will open the other envelopes," he suggested.

For a moment, she didn't speak. In fact, something quite strange happened. Instead of taking in the grief as she normally would have, her mind strayed to the facts of the letter. Two men had murdered her father.

The doctor's arm slipped off when she sprung back up in the chair.

"Okay."

He studied her for a second.

"You are sure? For such a loud girl, you are taking this very calmly."

Abby's eyes squelched the vulnerability she'd momentarily felt and with a determined grimace, she nodded.

"I'm fine. Let's just find out what happened."

"You are sure?"

"Heiter. When I'm ready to break down and cry, I will break down and cry. Right now, I want to find out what the hell happened."

The last statement was said with a bit of frustration, but Abby didn't care anymore.

_I'm going to kill both of the bastards. I'm going to kill them just like how they killed dad._

APHAPHAPHAPH

By the time all of the envelopes were open, Abby was ready to commit suicide herself. Although Sarah had claimed the answers were all there, the clues hardly made sense with each other.

In one envelope there were newspaper clippings of three unsolved murders ranging in an area beginning in Neuruppin all the way to Berlin. Five women - all brutally mutilated, tortured, all in their teens. The years ranged from 1990 to 1994.

Another envelope held a black and white photograph of three men along with a youthful looking Sarah. The light catapulting off the lens had caused the men's faces to become distorted and unrecognizable, but Heiter inferred that one resembled Ivan.

The third envelope carried something that did make sense, but not in a relieving way.

When Abby was a child of seven and had been given her first $20 bill, she sprang to the nearest store. Trinkets & Things. Father's day was just around the corner and the man she called daddy, deserved something special.

So, she purchased a Donald Duck watch. The band was a yellowish, aged leather with the background of the clock holding the duck's famous, grinning face.

To her elation and surprise, her dad wore it constantly. Whether it was because of his love for her or he genuinely enjoyed the childish device, Abby couldn't say. But, she'd hardly ever saw it off his wrist.

Inside the envelope was the sacred watch, a faint blood stain covering five of the holes. No longer appearing a bright yellow, the resulting color appeared crimson mustard. The two tickers were stuck on the time 2:02.

"It was my dad's," she indicated after a moment, slipping the watch back into the envelope. The emotion associated with the object was too much to bear at the moment.

Heiter didn't say anything and for this, she was glad.

Once another envelope was opened, Abby began to feel the exhaustion of the entire day weigh down on her.

"It's an address in Munich," Heiter mentioned after a few seconds of staring at the notebook paper.

"Recognize it?"

"No. Most of this information I will take to Rudolf in the morning."

"Oh-."

She stopped herself upon his heavy look.

"Tell me," he insisted, "what you are thinking."

Biting at her gashed lip, Abby sighed.

"If Sarah thought I could gain all of the information I needed just from these envelopes, then I trust her. Let's not involve Rudolf until our minds have burned out from every possibility."

"I'm afraid I don't understand the point of this."

"I want to make my dad proud," she expressed after a moment. "By completing this without everyone leading me the way. That's now the way the world works. And yes...this is a bit hypocritical to say considering I was ready to murder someone after Steffan and Sarah's deaths. But we have the answers in front of us. It's just a matter of figuring them out."

Heiter kept his eyes on her for a full minute before replying.

"You do not trust Rudolf."

"No, I don't," she admitted. "He was kind to have gotten me some hair dye, but otherwise, I trust him as far as I can throw him."

"I did not expect you too fully."

Crossing her arms, Abby leaned back in the chair. A sly smile rose over her lips despite the grim circumstances.

"What dirt do you have on him?"

The doctor scrunched his eyebrows.

"Let me rephrase. What do you know about Rudolf that makes him so ready to help you?"

His further puzzlement didn't fool Abby this time.

"You know something. I know you know," she tiredly accused, her grin expanding.

"Sleep deprivation is getting to you," he replied.

The laugh flew from her throat before she could contain it.

"God damn it, Heiter. How in the hell have I gotten to know you so well? You are a class A bullshitter!"

A yawn broke through her laughter, but the doctor continued staring at her as if she was clinically insane. A funny thought considering the man was most likely as sane as a rabies infested bat.

"I do not know."

The reply made her cease the chuckling and blow out a few breaths.

"Maybe it's one of those really unique events," she offered. "That happens once in a millennium. Two people who inexplicably understand each other."

Around them, the silence tensed. She hadn't really thought over her words before announcing them, but there was no point in doing so. He'd either scowl at her or grimace.

To Abby's surprise however, her words had set off a thoughtful look over his face and the warmness seeping in was too foreign for her mind to comprehend.

But apparently not her mouth.

"You look so at ease right now," she observed, green eyes wide. "Like you're really happy for once."

Heiter didn't respond, and after an abundance of facial extensions, Abby recognized he wouldn't.

"Maybe you're right. It is the lack of sleep making me so loopy. I'll open this last envelope and then I'm calling it a night."

She didn't wait for his response. With a steady hand, Abby dragged the remaining envelope across the table and studied it for a brief second. Then, she tore it open.

Another tired laugh broke through her lips. This time, there was a slight sullenness in it.

The black and white image before her was of the Spree River, vast and great with a tourist ship sailing by. The sky was a murky gray, and some sort of mist had settled over the area.

Through the mist stood a figure with their back to the river. Not quite in his mid-40's, the figure didn't smile at the camera even though he was aware of its presence. Instead, a slight grimace marred his face. The way his body was positioned toward the river announced that he'd been caught off guard by the shot.

"What is it?"

Glancing up, Abby clutched the photo to her chest.

"My dad."

And with a slight nod to the man, Abby turned into the hallway, photo in hand, and proceeded to her room. At least she gained something tonight.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"I'll wake her up."

"You sure, Josef? I'm on my way to the bathroom and her room-."

"I am sure."

Abby's ears just barely detected this conversation before the footsteps entered her room. They slammed against the carpet in agitation, but calmed upon taking her in.

"Yes?" she weakly called out, clutching the blanket tighter to her. For once, her dreams were not a reflection of the nightmare her life had turned into upon traveling to Germany. She was with her dad by the river, attempting to decipher why exactly he seemed so forlorn.

Heiter didn't answer, so Abby reluctantly shuffled out of her reverie and exposed her body to the cool room.

"Don't tell me someone else has died," she mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Not this time. Despite your preference to keep out Rudolf, I made an effort to give him the photo of the three figures and Mrs. Kappel late last night. He is in possession of the photo with the faces clearly dialated."

Raising a brow, Abby breathed out.

"That's wonderful. Have...you seen it yet?"

"No. I felt...at odds looking upon something which holds more meaning to you."

Unsure how to feel about that comment, Abby offered up a grin. Her eyes strayed behind the man to the open door.

"They're all here?"

"Only Rudolf and Klaus."

"Klaus is done testifying?"

"For now."

A grin lit up her features, but it paused when she glanced down to the picture she had gripped in her fingers.

"Alright," she finally acknowledged. "Let's see what Sarah is trying to tell us."

APHAPHAPHAPH

Klaus shot her a quick smile as she entered the room and Abby nodded despite herself. The primary goal was to be focused, not act like a lovesick puppy. But, the man had a way about him. Deep thinker, intelligent, art enthusiast. How many of her boyfriends actually possessed one of those aforementioned qualities?

"Miss Post," Rudolf greeted gruffly, hand outstretched. "It appears this photo is quite informative in regards to the persons within it."

Taking the photo from him, she studied the scenery.

"This is the original photo," she responded.

"Yes," he agreed, taking out a manila folder from his coat pocket. "The blown up version is right here. Now...the figures in this photo need a bit of explanation. The female figure is indeed, Sarah Kappel. Her husband Ivan is beside her. However, the other two men, previously unidentifyable, are suddenly very interesting. They are Ivan's brothers."

"Ivan's brothers?" she repeated. "Why would she give me a picture of them?"

Her gaze befell Klaus's first, then Heiter's. Neither answered.

Fumbling with the photo, Rudolf studied the picture carefully before blowing out a sigh from beneath his thick mustache.

"The brother on the far side is Jonas. Interesting thing about him. When I called his home, his wife informs me she has not seen or heard from him for over two months. When I checked up on this, I found he has been on our list at the station as a missing person just as the wife told."

_Now that's strange. What if Jonas also was aware of what occurred? Did he disappear because he wanted to tell me?_

"And the other man?" she asked, curiosity piquing.

"Nearest to Ivan is Luca. He was the middle child, and the most outspoken. He did not have any trouble with us until-,"

Rudolf dug around for a moment in the folder, tiny eyes scattering rapidly.

"-he was arrested in 1993."

"What for?"

"I did not work the case myself, but it would appear Luca was a prime suspect in the Highway murders from Neuruppin to Berlin around 1990-1994."

Abby stilled immediately and threw a quick glance at Heiter. His eyes hid his emotions well, but she knew he was just as shocked as she was.

"Five teenage girls. They were raped, then mutilated."

She didn't need to hear it. The newsclippings of the murders were already in an envelope Sarah had left for her.

"Was it him?" Klaus asked inquisitively.

"Not enough information to prosecute him. Although it is common knowledge in the precinct that he was the one who performed the crimes. Now...the odd thing is that he too is missing. Only...he's been missing for a far longer time than Jonas. About thirteen years."

Composing herself, Abby felt the thump of her pulse increase its beats against her neck.

"He disappeared in Germany?"

Rudolf gave a tight smile before meeting her eyes.

"No. He disappeared in the United States."

Mechanically, she took the newly developed photo from his hands and brought it before her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Heiter approaching from behind.

The three men sat on a fence with grins on their faces while Sarah stood, eyes crinkled at their silly mannerisms. The background appeared rural and isolated. Maybe a farm or field. And without the sudden glare of the sun, all of the faces were clear as day.

"Heiter," Abby suddenly voiced, eyes widening.

"Yes?"

Her eyes squinted as her finger rested on the face of Luca Kappel.

"This man...I recognize him."

They simultaneously met each other's eyes.

"How?" he asked in deep confusion.

"He's-."

Abby closed her eyes, forcing her mind to reach back into time. It was one of the few times that she physically had to dig around for the memory instead of waiting for it to come.

"He's one of the men my father and I worked on in the warehouse," she breathed out, eyes opened.

"You are sure?" Rudolf questioned.

"Yes," she retorted, swinging her head to him. "Yes. He's smiling in the picture here and he's got two deep dimples. I remember commenting on them to my dad. And the way his jaw is set. I saw Luca Kappel's dead body."

One hand shook at this new information, suddenly observing everything from a new perspective.

"And the other?" the detective wondered. "Do you recognize him?"

"I doubt it," Abby muttered, seemingly in a faraway trance. "Why would I-?"

She trailed off and instead, glanced down at the remaning brother. Jonas.

And this time, neither she nor Heiter could keep back their surprise.

Carefully, Abby took in every feature of the man just to make sure it really were the eyes that had stared back at her.

"Heiter," she began, eyes catching his, "I watched this man die in your basement."

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><p><strong>Let me know your thoughts in a review!<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you very much for the reviews! They keep me writing on. Just want to make sure you all understood the last chapter - Sarah's husband Ivan is brothers with Luca and Jonas. Luca was a German serial killer who traveled to the United States for a little while to avoid detection and Abby recognized him as being one of the bodies she and her father worked on. Jonas is also connected and is the man Heiter killed off toward the beginning of the story, the one Abby had talked to in German and asked about his family. Just wanted to make sure you weren't too confused as they try to piece everything together. Oh, and Quaesitum means something sought such as an objective or an end. As I get into the XYZ letters, you'll hear the chapter titles become words not often used in the English language. I'll put the definitions of them so you're not confused. Anywho, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17 - Quarrelsome Quaesitum<strong>

Abby hadn't realized how the room would react once she voiced the very dramatic ending of Jonas Kappel. She herself hardly was able to get her head around what was just learned.

First, there was Klaus.

"You killed someone in your basement?" he shouted, more stunned than everything. "This guy has a wife at home waiting for him. What the hell is wrong with you?"

He directed all of his harsh remarks toward Heiter, but Abby felt a need to explain the situation despite the fact that she silently cheered on his anger. Until she realized Jonas was involved somehow in her dad's disappearance.

That was when Rudolf stepped in.

"You did not inform me Jonas was a part of your hobby as well."

She detected the cold fury beneath the comment. The man was pissed off because Heiter had kept back this very valuable information. But it horrified Abby that Rudolf understood exactly what the doctor's taste were and did nothing to prevent it.

Before the situation could further erupt, Abby threw out two hands.

"Calm down, alright? We're working together, not against each other," she declared.

"This was before I realized our source was a murderer," Klaus angrily answered.

Sighing, Abby waved off Heiter's response and instead, approached the furious man.

"I'll explain what happened, okay? Let's go somewhere private."

Klaus appeared unsure, but when he realized Heiter nor Rudolf would be following, he visibly relaxed.

"Fine. But from now on, I only answer to Abby's requests."

Abby ignored the glare he shot behind her and instead, led the man out of the den hastily.

He was still tense when they entered her room.

"You lied to me," he stated, taking her in with stormy, green eyes.

Mouth open, Abby wasn't sure what to say.

"In what sense?" she finally tried.

"Your relationship with him. You watched him murder a man."

"I never said that!"

"But your words implied it. And now you're defending him."

Sighing, Abby gathered her breathing under control.

"It's not like that. There are things you don't know about-."

"Then tell me yourself, Abby. I immediately trusted you because of the shared experience we have. And maybe that trust was misplaced because a whole bunch of other feelings I hadn't felt in a long time, rushed in as well."

Backing up at his forceful pace forward, the blonde kept back the nerves flushing through her.

"I'm sorry if your trust has been tainted. But Klaus...I can't explain what happened. I can barely understand it myself, much less figure out how it happened."

Klaus studied her for a long moment before nodding.

"Then let me try figuring this out."

Knowing she owed him at least that, Abby gestured her go ahead as she sank down on the bed. Suddenly, she was far too tired for amount of sleep she had gotten.

"He insists on you not going to the police with your information, but to a crooked detective. He is constantly making sure you are within the house. And even if you think you hide it well, you are nervous about his reactions."

Caught between being appreciative of his talents and anxious about his words, Abby shrugged.

"That's not a normal relationship between two people."

"And having our father's taken away and murdered is normal as well?" she countered.

"I am not saying this is your fault," Klaus said, voice lowering somewhat, "In fact, I think you were caught at the wrong place, at the wrong time."

When she remained silent, Klaus stood directly in front of her and tipped her chin up to meet his gaze.

"Has he hurt you?" he all but whispered.

Abby didn't know how to respond. It was a simple question, but the answer suddenly seemed too complex.

"Please, tell me Abby. I can help you get away from him if he has."

"He's not hurting me. I hurt him before he could hurt me."

At the puzzled expression on Klaus's face, Abby sighed. One that nearly took all of the energy out of her.

"When we leave this room," she began after a hesitant moment, "you're not to say anything. Understand?"

"A-."

"No. Consider this patient confidentiality. What I'm going to tell you can not alter your view of Heiter."

"You're afraid he'll kill you if you tell?"

"The less people who know, the better. Plus...he really has helped me."

She had one last second thought about divulging her two month stay inside the hell home. But, this didn't undermine the ease she felt around Klaus. The sooner they got this problem out of the way, the sooner they could get back to deciphering exactly what occurred.

"I was looking for Steffan Mahnkompf's address when-."

APHAPHAPHAPH

Klaus had kept his face flawlessly indifferent throughout the duration of the story. This didn't worry Abby. Especially after how easily she'd been able to get the story out.

Save for Jonas's death, and the maddening effects of withdrawal, Abby's voice remained relatively smooth. However, it was only when she began describing how relaxed their relationship got, that Klaus shifted on the bed.

"And he responded to this kiss?" he'd asked.

"Not exactly. Later in the night, he attempted to kill me."

On she went, relaying the story as quickly as she could. There were some parts Klaus wanted said again or to be explained more in depth. Abby recognized it was the psychiatrist in him attempting to grasp on to what he was hearing but, it still made her uncomfortable discussing it. It felt like he was twisting her words and making them seem something they were not.

"Now I'm here and I've just found out that the man Heiter killed, was brothers with one of my dad's victims and brother in law to a woman who committed suicide. Give me a bit of a break to take this in."

Respectfully, Klaus did as such. But she could literally hear the mental cogs churning in his head.

However, his next words completely surprised her.

"If you want me to act like nothing happen, I will."

"Really?"

She didn't even try hiding her disbelief.

"Ultimately, this is about your father. Heiter's presence is not necessary, but effective. You understand everything he's done leading to figuring out something that means more to you than survival. In a way, you feel thankful despite your nonchalance. This is why you most likely safeguard what occurred. I will keep my lips closed because you are doing this for your father, and because you are a beautiful person for tolerating his disgusting actions."

Smiling weakly, Abby grasped Klaus's hand.

"That's more than I could have asked for."

APHAPHAPHAPH

Upon venturing back into the den with a smile, Abby paused with Klaus directly behind her.

Rudolf was regarding Heiter mutinously, lips formed into a tight, pale line. Heiter barely acknowledged the detective, eyes pasted on their presence.

_Somebody's conversation didn't go well. Which means he'll be cranky._

"I-."

"Shut up, whore."

The words slapped Abby across the face two times before realizing they'd come from Rudolf.

"You have no right to speak to her that way," Klaus defended, bringing a hand to her shoulder.

Heiter didn't say anything.

"My presence here is not needed anymore," Rudolf spat, backing down at Klaus's furious gaze. "This case has been solved."

With that, he threw a quick glare at Heiter before stomping out of the room.

Klaus and Abby watched him retreat before letting their eyes fall on the doctor.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Rudolf's kindness has ran out," was his only answer.

Knowing not to argue, her eyes searched for the dilated picture Rudolf had brought over. From a distance, she saw the grinning men as not peaceful, carefree guys, but cynical, vicious beasts.

"Let's show Klaus what we found inside the envelopes," she suggested.

The doctor still didn't reply, so Abby gestured him to the kitchen.

She watched the various expressions fly over Klaus's face. The harder he concentrated, the more thankful she was that she'd revealed everything to him. Not only was there a weight lifted off of her back, but it seemed like Klaus deserved to know something this important. So maybe one day, their tainted trust could filter out and only the good would remain.

When Klaus glanced up at her, she realized he'd said something.

"Huh?"

"The address is probably where this picture was taken," he deduced.

Fighting back the urge to glance at Heiter, Abby moved closer to him.

"I've also thought about trying to find Ivan. Sarah claims there were two men involved in my dad's murder. Either he was one of those men, or he too stood by just as his wife did. Although, it's difficult to believe considering it's my father who murdered his brother."

"You've got this figured out, haven't you?"

Shrugging, Abby leaned her hip against the table.

"Now that a lot of things are out in the open, I think I can understand what happened. It all started with Luca's murder spree in the early 90's. Which explains the newspaper clippings. After the near catch in 93', Luca terrified the country with a few more murders before heading off to theUnited States. Most likely an elongated vacation."

"Your father would have known instantly," Heiter spoke up. "If his claimed intelligence truly lives up to your words, he would know."

Nodding, Abby's eyes strayed to Heiter.

"So my dad kills him, nonethewiser. He's always killed those who take away innocent lives from other people. But he wasn't counting on Luca's family to be so wound together. Either Jonas or Ivan found out about his disappearance and discovered what had become of him. How they came to know that, is still a mystery, but nothing I'm willing to stay focused on."

"They approach Steffan because they don't want their intentions known. And see Steffan as a clueless pawn in their scheme. Steffan contacts your father and lures him toGermany," Klaus replied.

"During the trip," Abby answered back, body buzzing with the information, "they make their presence known to my father. Probably say something to make him leave Steffan's comfort - considering the man was beginning to get suspicious after a month. And then..."

"Perhaps he survives the initial encounter," Heiter surmised. "But understands he will not live to see you grow up. He sends the postcard while he still has the chance."

"He knew I'd be smart enough to understand it," she mused.

Scanning the envelopes on the table, Abby felt like she was still missing something. The photo of her dad for one, seemed random as well as the address. If they already connected what happened, why the need for the extra items? Keepsakes?

_I already know. I'm just not admitting it._

And Abby did know. Because behind that relief at discovering what happened, lay an intense urge to retaliate. To ravish and plunder and murder and tear apart the man responsible for ruining a family.

_Then again, he probably sees us equal now. Dad takes away one of his family members, so he takes away one of mine._

But she remembered what her dad would say.

_"These men here, Labyrintha, are meant to be here. Whether it was through action or aggression or situation. These men have done something and we get to try to figure out how they tick."_

And then again, her mother.

_"They're not really people, Abby."_

Sure, Ivan or whoever did murder her dad, felt justified. But they are denying also the horror their own brother brought upon the world. And the fact that Gregory's actions just took away one scumbag from the world.

Did she want revenge?

Yes.

She wanted it _desperately_. The more she thought of her mother's descent into substance abuse and depression, the more the answer became clear. She didn't just have her life invaded by some external force, she had it sucked away - never to be returned again. And there was not enough sympathy in her heart to override that sort of deceit.

"What's on your mind, Abby?" Klaus wondered, noting the flexing of her features.

For a moment, the blonde stared at the address on the table. Her gaze was so fixed she thought she'd never be able to release it.

"Nothing you'll approve of," she finally answered.

"If you want revenge on Ivan, just hold it back."

Clenching her jaw, Abby's eyes focused on Klaus's in frustration.

"Had you the chance to go one on one with the bastards who murdered your father, I know you would. This isn't up for discussion. I will find Ivan and see if he's responsible for what happened. And then-."

Klaus's eyes flung to Heiter's.

"Talk her out of this," he insisted.

Heiter stared at Abby curiously. He didn't say anything for an incredibly long minute.

"It is her decision to make. Sarah placed the photographs and address inside the envelopes on purpose. She understood that Abby might want revenge. If she was willing to give up her husband's location, this means a part of her thought him just as deserving to die."

Klaus remained silent, but his disbelief soon turned into worry.

"So that's what you're going to do?" he said, advancing on the blonde. "You're going to find him and kill him?"

"Yes," she determinedly answered, "especially if he's responsible for Steffan's murder."

"But-."

"Klaus…I want you behind me on this, not because it's murder, but because we both know it's right. A part of you has got to feel that sense of justice coursing through you. Not a justice where the killers are never found and are left to throw the world into chaos, but where they are killed before they can tear apart another person's family. Please, tell me you understand that."

His worry turned into hesitancy.

"As a doctor-."

"Same as him," Abby gestured to Heiter, "and he's one hundred percent for this. I won't go into the details regarding why, but he understands to a degree, my need to have this man or anyone associated with the murder, dead."

Glancing between the two, Klaus sighed before wearily rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Or you could leave," Heiter suggested, his voice taking on a coldness Abby hadn't heard before. "If this task takes away so much from your pride, I will happily take Abby to find Ivan myself."

Slightly confused, Abby looked at Heiter, but the doctor was staring unblinkingly at the psychiatrist.

After a second entirely too tense for Abby, Klaus let out a quick chuckle.

"Are you ready, Abby?"

His words were a challenge, but the blonde couldn't determine for what.

Still, she offered a nod in reply. Whatever his sudden interest was, she ceased to care. The man who might have murdered her dad, sat in wait somewhere in the country. Nothing else mattered than his death.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed that chapter. There are undertones to the character's actions, but I'm not going to explain them. I'll leave them up to you to decide. Let me know your thoughts in a review!<strong>


	18. Chapter 18

**NOTE: So you may have gotten 25+ alerts indicating that this chapter had been up, but once you got to the story, it wasn't there. Lol, let me explain. When I first uploaded, I didn't get the e-mail indicating that the chapter had been up. So I waited about 15 minutes, but I saw no persons had visited the chapter. So, I deleted it...waited a few more minutes...then uploaded the chapter. Same result. After that...I thought FF wasn't working so I uploaded only a few hundred times more, just to delete it when I saw no one had visited the chapter. Imagine my surprise waking up to discover 20 inbox messages - each one of them for this chapter I uploaded and then deleted. LOL! I'm just relieved I wasn't blocked without warning or something like that. Anywho, if you got all of those e-mails, know this is the real chapter because my inbox indicated it. Thank you for being so very patient.**

**Here we have another chapter! Thank you to those who reviewed. Each chapter is for you guys and your kind, honest words. I would have never been this far without you guys. Thank you and enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 18 - Risky Rendezvous<strong>

Abby tried not to notice the new found tension between Klaus and Heiter, even when both men were doing an ill job of conceiving it.

She offered to sit in the back seat of Heiter's car to get some rest, but the decision to do so seemed premature. The two glared every so often at each other like they were on opposite sides of a cage, ready to rip each others throat out. She felt like she should have a tazor in hand, just in case.

"Show your teeth any longer and the spit will start flying," Abby sighed with closed eyes. Even the air indicated the thick atmosphere in the vehicle.

Neither said a word.

Klaus had called Jakob back at the house to see if they were able to contact Ivan in Prague. Now that Rudolf had kindly retreated from the project, Jakob was their only source of information.

Fortunately, Jakob had gotten word Ivan had entered the country at least five days ago. Unfortunately, this made him far more difficult to track down. Since he'd been able to fool his workplace into thinking he was still in Prague, his location was virtually unknown unless he used a credit card. Abby desperately hoped the address Sarah had left would produce the man.

They were heading north again, far further than Neuruppin. Two hours and a half to a farm just outside of Grimmen. Enough time for Abby to properly rethink her options.

_I know I want whoever is responsible, dead...but would I be able to kill them?_

She tried not to answer, but the question was important. If she had the gun pointed at the man who murdered her dad, would she be able to take the life? Knowingly? As a result of a crime having occurred 12 years ago? Wasn't there a rule about forgiving and forgetting?

Grimacing, she squeezed her eyes tighter and settled for making herself pass out. Anything to keep back the sudden regret she was having at her course of actions.

The next time she awoke, Klaus was gently prodding her shoulder.

With a tired mumble, Abby's eyes fluttered open as she observed their scenery.

"The car won't run forever," he noted listlessly, gesturing at Heiter who was currently filling it up with gas.

In his hand, he offered her a muffin.

"Hmm," she laughed, fingers wrapping around the blueberry treat, "I love this snack. I always feel like I'll have a heart attack afterward, but I find it's worth it. Thank you."

Klaus nodded, seating himself beside her. In the distance, thunder sounded like multiple feet scurrying across an ancient ceiling, ready to give out. Abby hungrily bit into the muffin, grinning at the sugary sweetness riding a roller coaster through her mouth.

"Have you pondered over what you want to do?" he softly questioned.

Taking in the man's grim features, Abby laid her head down on his shoulder and ate the last bite of the muffin. He didn't disapprove of her action, almost seemed comforted by it in fact.

"I have to kill him."

"Abby-."

"That's my decision. Whether this vengeance would always reveal itself, or it was just hiding, I'm not sure. But I will not allow the man to walk in this world alive anymore."

A heavy, clear drop slammed against the windshield, startling the blonde for a moment.

"Maybe you inherited this thirst for vengeance based on your time in captivity," Klaus quietly offered.

Abby lifted her head off his shoulder and stared at him with a firmly set jaw.

"Don't you dare think I'm like him," she threatened. "You should know better."

Klaus met her stare with a hardened one of his own.

"Do not tell me what I should know. You are choosing murder as opposed to reason. That decision will be on your hands."

"And I am perfectly fine with that, Klaus. Whether that's my dad's mannerisms or Heiter's or the Queen of England's, who knows? But I am fine with that."

He continued his stare and when Abby couldn't levelly relay her point again, she huffed.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

Before he could reply, she flung open the car door and slipped outside.

Heiter stood beside the car, eyes scanning her, and then back inside.

"Problem?"

"No," she argued. "Just have to go to the bathroom."

She didn't wait for his response before entering the gas station - a small, 7/11 type establishment.

When her business was done, Abby strolled down the only aisle of the station. Her eyes glanced toward the entertainment magazines, wondering who'd gotten married or divorced since her capture.

"-not know, but the house is being investigated."

Abby's eyes froze.

The German processed through her mind rapidly, instilling an immediate anxiety.

_I know that voice._

Carefully, she peeked through her bangs at the figure standing by the counter. He spoke into a walkie hanging at his side, spit flying through his inflection.

_That's one of the detectives that were at Heiter's house._

Only when she ran a nervous hand through her hair, did Abby realize she looked different. Almost unrecognizable.

_It'd be a miracle if he could pinpoint me._

Still, when she urged her feet to move, she did so slowly and with great trepidation. The last thing she needed was for attention to be called to her.

She walked past the counter with a careless frown, nodding at the man behind it before taking the final few steps through the ringing door.

Only when she reached the car, did she visibly relax.

"What happened in there?" Klaus asked as soon as she slipped inside. "You looked tense."

"One of the detectives at your house," she murmured, eyes flickering to the rear view mirror.

"You handled it well," Heiter said, starting up the car.

"Let's just get out of here."

APHAPHAPHAPH

This time, Abby managed the entire back seat for a makeshift bed. Slightly uncomfortable, but it did the job.

And back into her dreams she traveled.

A part of her hoped for an answer to the dilemma she faced. Should she kill a man who took something from her first? Or could the deed be settled with letting it go?

But logic and reason ceases to matter in the dream world.

Instead, she dreamed of the oddest thing.

A great, massive, roaring lion sat perched upon the street of her childhood home.

After a long moment of a mixture of gawking and taking it in, Abby approached the beast without caution. It seemed there was an unspoken agreement between the two of a harmless encounter.

Night had long ago settled down upon them and only the street lamps offered a visual glimpse at the events unfolding.

With a blink of its long, magnificent lashes, the golden animal knelt from its former perch and placed its paws over its nose, as if having just inhaled something odorous.

Abby laughed at the display before coming to stand before it. For some reason, she felt like the lion was submitting to her from the position. And this made her feel uncomfortable.

So, she knelt down and sat Indian style before it. She could feel the fuming oxygen sputter from the lion's nose and into her fingers. The sensation tickled and a feeling of renewed calm entered her.

"You are a very peculiar lion," this dream version of her admitted.

"And you are a peculiar human," the lion answered lazily, hardly moving his jaws.

"How so? I am very normal."

"The beauty is your lack of understanding for events to come."

Abby tilted her head at this. Another strange thing was the disappearance of her blonde hair. Her old, auburn locks reached down to just below her chest.

"I don't understand."

The lion didn't reply right away. Instead, its furry mane tilted up toward the sky.

Abby followed the motion and watched in awe as the navy black sky above them ceased to exist. In its place, a coating of pink drizzled across, like it'd been squeezed out of a tube of frosting.

"I greatly enjoy this time," the lion acknowledged. "The time of great change."

"What changes besides the sky and stars?"

"The fate of those who depend on the sky and stars," he answered prophetically.

"Does mine?"

"No. You are of the few with the option of lucid control."

"It doesn't feel like it," Abby muttered.

They watched the sky edge into a new dawn, a dazzling warm fuscia covering every edge of the ceiling above.

"Who can determine fate?" she asked after a long moment of gazing up. "We are all so small and fragile in the conquering timeline of our lives."

"You can."

Before she could glance back at the lion, a sudden jolt woke her. With a discontent sigh, Abby's eyes traveled open only to find gray woods speeding by.

She lay in the position for awhile, not wanting to be detected. As far as strange dreams were concerned, that one ranked pretty high. Its origin and meaning had various interpretations, none of which she felt divulging into. She was looking for an answer to murder, not her fate in some riddled lion.

_"Who can determine fate?"_

_"You can."_

The words came back to her in a haunted demeanor, begging to be deciphered.

_Never eating a German muffin again._

But despite the jab, she couldn't keep away the dream even when they finally entered Grimmen.

APHAPHAPHAPHAPH

"Its got to be at least 200 acres," Abby surmised, eyes raking over the plain.

They'd found the farm quite easily and took a parking spot far from the house's view. That way, they'd have the element of surprise for a moment.

After fifteen minutes of walking, the trio's journey ended just a few feet short of the quaint farmhouse. No car sat in the driveway, but the Kappel's property stretched at least a hundred feet each way. The man could easily have found shelter somewhere else.

"Ready for this?" Klaus asked, extending a hand.

Abby glanced away from the scenery and into the psychiatrist's eyes. For a moment, they were focused behind her toward Heiter. But before she could analyze the gaze, all of the forest green was fixated back on her.

"Sure," she answered, placing her hand in his.

The contact didn't bother her, nor his suggestion about her becoming like Heiter. Such things couldn't be fretted over in her state of mind right now. Not when only one thing mattered.

Hand in hand, with Heiter falling in step behind, the trio approached the farm house. No livestock littered the area and Abby guessed they'd sold them long ago. Perhaps because they were going bankrupt? Or maybe they had no use for this farm anymore?

"Did you see that?" she suddenly paused, eyes squinted on the nearest window to them. They stood only twenty feet from the small structure.

"What?" Klaus whispered.

"I thought I saw-."

Her voice dropped as they all observed the black shadow quickly stalking across the inside room before disappearing.

They all pulled away from the window. As of yet, the figure inside wasn't aware of their presence. It'd do well for them to keep it that way.

Abby slowly released Klaus's hand and began a stomp toward the door. It lay at a comfortable position away from the window, unseen except from an outside vantage.

"Abby."

Unsure which man called her name, Abby turned to them with barely held back frustration.

"What?"

As soon as her attention was on them, each man revealed a weapon. She recognized Heiter's gun, but was surprised to see Klaus sporting one as well.

"Did I not get the memo or something?" she asked in slight puzzlement.

"I will take the back entrance," Heiter relayed. "The door we observed as we first approached."

"I'll be beside you," Klaus vowed. "If Ivan decides to get agitated, I'll be there to protect you."

"I don't need your protection," she bit back. "And I thought you weren't for using violence."

Klaus gave a shrug.

"Your words stuck with me. And to send you to the front door, unarmed, is a bad idea."

"There's another door just on the other side of this one," she indicated. "Watch that one."

"And leave you alone? I'm not doing that."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just guard the doors so he can't leave."

"Abby-."

"Klaus-."

"Will both of you shut up?"

Abby's gaze fell to Heiter, surprised at the sudden outburst.

"You claimed to only answer to Abby's orders," the doctor began, glaring at Klaus. "Do as she says."

It only took a few moments for Klaus to concede, but not before throwing an equally dirty look back at Heiter.

"I'll knock on the door. He hears it, panics...most likely, he'll spring for one of the two exits," she explained. "Both of you will be covering them."

Heiter nodded, and Klaus finally did the same.

"Go!" she quietly gestured.

The two went their opposite ways while Abby turned to the door.

It was a chipped, wooden board straight out of a 50's home catalogue. Cheery, bright, but very misplaced in their green environment. It appeared like it'd done some hard times, maybe nearly flung off a few times due to someone's anger.

With a calm breath, Abby prepared herself. Worst case scenario? Ivan was the killer and had a gun on her.

_I've got to at least ask why. I think that's also bothering me. From the way Sarah made it sound, someone tortured dad for a long, long time before killing him. Someone who enjoyed it like a leisure activity as opposed to revenge._

Keeping her fist steady, Abby threw her knuckles down once on the door, then twice.

She kept telling herself not to panic or make any sudden movement. This is where all of those months and years of depression and confusion would finally end. This was the place.

So she waited. And waited. And continued to wait, ears struggling to pick up something.

And that's when she heard the shot ring out. Like a voluminous blast, rustling the nearby birds into the sky.

Stilling, Abby's ears tried to pick out the side of the house the shot had come from. Either Heiter or Klaus had released their guns.

_Or maybe Ivan._

She hesitated to raise her voice, but the continued silence fried her nerves.

A scurry of footsteps suddenly pounded inside, followed by an angry yell and then the sound of glass breaking.

Immediately, Abby sprinted to the front of the house. In the window furthest from her, Ivan was stumbling out head first, glass shards on the dirt below him.

Not in a million years could she figure out why she didn't try to apprehend him. Just a few feet was all she needed to go.

But Abby stood there like a gawking teenager. She wanted to see the man's face. To see the expression on it. To see his reaction to her.

All of this unfolded in a very quick time period and she was still frozen in place when Ivan finally reached his feet. He glanced up at her, then briefly fled backward.

"You," she mumbled, just loud enough for him to be heard.

The man pushed off the house and sprang past her. Abby, however, needed no more time to think. Within seconds, she sprinted off after him.

A yell follwed behind her, but she couldn't determine whose it was. Her legs pumped instead as hard as they could, attempting to cover the ground Ivan had gotten on her. There was no plan of what she'd do once she got to him, but one thing was clear. He could not escape.

Because she knew. Just a split second before he took off, his eyes had met hers. In them, she witnessed the knowledge she'd craved to know a hell of a long time ago.

Ivan _was_ the man who had murdered her dad. Call it instinct, intuition, or some unknown inner sense, but of this fact, she was sure.

It was when his face had contorted into fear, and then in a triumphant smirk - that's when she knew she wanted him dead.

"Abby!" a bellow came.

The blonde only sprinted ahead faster.

She was unprepared, however, for Ivan to briefly turn behind with a gun held loosely in one hand. His finger pulled the trigger back at the same exact moment she ducked to the ground.

The bullet whizzed over her head as Abby's lungs screamed for more oxygen. But as soon as she glanced up and saw how far he'd gotten, she forced herself after him again.

Only when he entered the woods, some one hundred feet away from the farmhouse, did she realize he had an advantage over her. He knew the area.

She had a fairly athletic endurance, but Ivan's exploration of the area suited him. He was able to take cuts she just hardly managed not to run past. Worse still, the trunks blocked his form well.

"Abby!"

Her feet dug into the dirt, and finally halted. Pants flew through her lips at a rate matching that of her heart beat. Head whipping around the area, Abby brushed angrily at the bangs pasted to her forehead.

Somewhere between a thicket of trees and bushes, she had lost the man.

"Ivan!" she screamed, feeling the veins pulse out of her neck.

A few birds scurried out of their nests at her yell, but otherwise, the woods remained stubbornly quiet.

"Ivan!" she tried again, this time with a little less hope.

The same silence greeted her.

"I will find you," she loudly vowed, spinning around. "And rest assured I will kill you for what you did to my dad! Do you hear me?"

Her voice echoed back to her, frightening a few more animals. But no human voice came back.

It took five minutes before she finally admitted Ivan had gotten away. Perhaps the only time she'd ever be face to face with him.

With a shaky hand, Abby brushed back her bangs. A laugh broke through her lips, but there was nothing amusing about it. In fact, it made her feel ten years older and a hell of a lot more bitter.

"Abby."

Sucking in a breath, the blonde girl turned to where her voice was called.

"He got away," she tried to explain, arms shaking.

Heiter took another step forward.

"If I would have thought to bring a gun-," she muttered, closing her eyes.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

Shaking her head, Abby's eyes sprang open.

"No. The bullet went over my head."

The doctor nodded slowly.

At his further lack of words, Abby glanced behind him quizzically.

"Where's Klaus?"

APHAPHAPHAAPH

She patted the man's sweaty forehead with a cool, white cloth.

"Keep pressure on your abdomen," she instructed, keeping her voice free of the anxiety she was feeling.

Klaus nodded, but already, his eyes were set on staying closed.

"Heiter went to get the car. We'll get you to the Grimmen hospital."

One of Klaus's bloodied hands shook, and Abby grasped it within hers. Now that the vengeance phase had passed, her concern was able to overwhelm everything else.

According to Heiter, when she had knocked on the door, Ivan couldn't figure out which one it was. Three doors to choose from.

At random, he chose the door Klaus was behind and took a shot through it.

The bullet ripped clean through the wood and into Klaus's stomach. After the injured man had made a noise and Heiter attempted to charge his way through, he reasoned the last door was guarded as well and made for the window.

The rest was left for Abby to fill in.

"You're fine," she assured, her voice growing soft. "They'll be able to fix you up in no time."

Klaus's eyes were wide and another brutal shake forced her eyes closed.

_It's my fault he's like this. I should have told him not to come. Told him he couldn't come. _

"I'm sorry," Abby said, brushing a hand through his brunette locks. "I'm so sorry, Klaus."

"Don't blame-," he choked out, shaking his head.

Feeling the fever start up, Abby lowered her head over his. The very ends of her bangs touched his heated forehead.

"Closer," he indicated, breaths coming out as wheezes.

Making sure he was keeping pressure on his stomach, Abby leaned further down.

Before she could pull away, Klaus's lips gently found hers.

The kiss wasn't meant to be mind blowing or passionate, but Abby kissed back all the same. Through his lips, she could feel his nerves. The hot breath. But just as well, she felt his tongue trace her lower lip and realized this meant so much more for him.

For that, she continued the kiss until they both had to come up for air.

"Thank you," Klaus said, giving her a weak smile.

And that was all he was able to get out for a long time.

* * *

><p><strong>There you have it. Eight chapters left. Let me know your thoughts in a review!<strong>


	19. Chapter 19

**On we go! Luckily, this one is lengthy...or perhaps some of you hate this story and only review to give me false hope. Ah well. Thank you for the review! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19 - This Tragedy<strong>

"He is doing well. In surgery right now," Heiter relayed, sitting himself down beside her.

Abby nodded, not really hearing the words. Guilt overrode everything else she could feel.

They'd entered Grimmen Hospital not even a full hour ago, carrying Klaus's limp form from the car through the downpour. He'd passed out for a final time on the way there and wouldn't wake no matter how many times Abby demanded him to.

Everyone inside the emergency room shouted German at her, but she was too distracted to speak it back. So Heiter handled translations.

Now that she'd gotten the prognosis, she was far more at ease.

Unfortunately, it remained clear that she was at fault. If not for her, Klaus wouldn't have a bullet lodged in his stomach.

"You should clean yourself off," Heiter suggested a few minutes later.

"I'm not leaving him."

Her eyes met his and she saw the frustration there at her defiance. But there was something else as well. Something she hadn't seen before.

"Are you actually concerned about Klaus?" she asked, a reluctant grin sprouting.

Heiter frowned before glancing away.

"My concern is not for him."

Further studying of his features caused Abby's grin to fall.

"Clean yourself off," he said, far softer this time.

Blowing out a breath, Abby stood.

An ache crawled through her thighs and down to her calves. Running after Ivan had reawoke muscles she hadn't used in a long, long time. In the morning, she was sure the soreness would spread to her entire lower body.

"Fine," she conceded. "But if anything changes, you tell me."

With his nod, Abby removed herself from the hallway and into the nearest bathroom. She had a lot of blood to wash out of her clothes.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Three hours later and she was locked in a heated argument with her former captor outside of what would be Klaus's room.

"Fine, go back to Berlin! But I am not leaving him alone."

"Do you really think Ivan will wait until Klaus is alright?"

She bit back her next words, fists clutched at her sides.

"I'm the reason he's in the hospital. I'm not going to leave him, not when we-."

Her gaze fell down, but the anger did not retreat.

"You go back for the night. Pick me up in the morning."

Heiter gave her a withering glare before narrowing his eyes.

"Remember why you came here," he spat. "Not for some little boy."

"What has he done to make you hate him so much?" she sputtered back, stepping into his comfort zone.

"His childish antics kept us from attaining Ivan."

"He was shot! It's not like he knew the bullet would go through the door."

The surgeon tensed, before finally retreating. But not happily.

"If not tomorrow, then forget about ever finding your father's murderer," he darkly determined.

"Fine," she just about yelled back.

And that was how they left each others presence.

It was the first big argument they'd indulged in in what seemed forever. Abby had been so focused on solving the mystery, she'd completely forgotten how at peace their relationship had gotten.

"Abby."

Glancing up from between her hands, the blonde scanned for the source of the voice.

A nurse stood with a cot before her and snuggled inside was Klaus - exhausted, but alive.

"Oh thank God," she muttered, rising to her feet. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been shot."

Letting out a quick laugh, Abby's forehead scrunched.

"How long are you going to be in here?"

Klaus glanced up at the nurse behind him, a heavyset woman in her mid 50's, before meeting her eyes.

"They claim three months with physical therapy, but I'm guessing maybe a month."

She moved out of the way as the nurse rolled him into the new room.

Only when Klaus's voice called her back in and the nurse had left, did Abby oblige.

She shut the door quietly before approaching him with the slightest of caution. Physically observing him made the guilt weigh in that much deeper.

"What time is it?" Klaus asked, sensing her nervousness.

"Just after two in the morning."

"You should get some sleep."

"Klaus-."

"Abby, don't."

Sighing, she crossed her arms in resignation.

"I went with you willingly," he argued. "I knew the dangers involved. Don't blame yourself."

"But-."

"Surgery is all done and I'll recover in a month. That's a fairly good outcome compared to what could have happened."

Biting at her lip, Abby stepped toward the man. One hand reached out and he grasped the limb with a smile.

For awhile, they simply held hands in silence. It was a drastic change from the constant action Abby's life had been thrown into in the past week.

"I'm leaving with Heiter tomorrow. We're going to try to locate Ivan. Don't know how...but I've got an idea."

Klaus's lips fell into a frown, then opened as if he wanted to say something.

"What?" she smiled. "Still have a problem with me killing Ivan?"

"Is he your father's killer?"

"Yes...he is."

"Then I suppose all of my reasoning means nothing now. However, I do wonder-."

When he didn't continue, Abby furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Wonder what?"

"I-never mind. I'll talk about it in the morning. It's only the medicine keeping me from passing out right now."

Releasing his hand, Abby backed away.

"I'll leave you to rest."

"Abby...will you stay?"

"Of course. I'll bring one of the chairs in here and-."

"No," Klaus protested softly.

Further confused, the blonde studied the injured psychiatrist for a long moment before her eyes lit up in understanding.

"Are you sure?"

"If you don't have a problem with it."

Abby thought back to the kiss and how far it would have gotten had Klaus not been injured.

"If it'll help you rest, I don't mind."

She watched as he did his best to scoot over on to one side of the cot. The machines beeped as his heart rate increased, but after a few minutes of struggling, Klaus had managed to open a spot up beside him.

Throwing a glance at the door, Abby hesitantly pulled herself atop the cot. She squeezed herself underneath the thin blankets before lowering her head on to the same pillow. Laying on her side was no issue since this was often the way she fell asleep. But facing Klaus's expressive green eyes was an entirely new experience.

"Your eyes look like a whole different world," she expressed quietly, thumb flicking her front teeth.

"My father had the same kind of eyes, but they were blue. My mom used to tell me everytime she looked at him, she had the sudden urge to go swimming."

Grinning, Abby scanned Klaus's drowsy features.

"Does chasing after Ivan open up old wounds?"

"None that can't be closed. Your constant pursuit makes me wish I would have done more," he admitted sullenly.

"Shh," she interrupted, placing a finger over his lips. "You wanted an answer to what happened. What I want is something more complicated. Something I think you're too kind to ever do. Don't ever be sorry for that."

Again, he wanted to say more, but the drugs finally weren't able to hold back the desire to sleep. So with her finger still over his lips, Klaus's eyes closed in submission.

Abby brought back her finger, wondering what this detente between them met. Unlike Heiter, whose kindness was always for a greater reason or not entirely sincere, Klaus went out of his way to make her feel like she hadn't royally screwed things up. And the kiss as well as their current sleeping position, desperately made her want to explore the possibilities of what they were creating.

However, Heiter's words did make sense as well.

Although shouted out of anger, he did speak the truth. Abby came to Germany for her dad, not for a relationship. And no matter how strange and comforting her and Klaus's relationship was, ultimately, she'd drop it in a heartbeat if she had a chance to find Ivan.

So, it was with a solemn resignation that Abby ran a stray finger through Klaus's shaggy hair. Here lay a man she got excited at just when he looked her way, but could not do anything about it. Or perhaps wouldn't let herself.

_Even if I wait for him to get better, Ivan could be continents away by that time. Or worse. Klaus could get hurt again._

It was for the better, she decided. Following Klaus would lead her away from her initial goal, and she couldn't afford to become distracted when the margin for error remained so thin.

"Maybe in another life time," she whispered, fingers splayed over his cheek.

Soon after, sleep indulged the blonde.

APHAPHAPHAPH

The last time Abby remembered being awakened by someone running a hand through her hair, it was during her childhood. She'd fall asleep during a movie on an old, lavender sofa and would wake up to the soft combing of her dad's fingers. Usually, this was a strictly maternal gesture, but her dad displayed peculiar habits around people and this one of comfort never ceased to make Abby snuggle in deeper into his side.

When the same combing continued to run playfully through her hair and Abby's mind registered it did not belong to her dad, the blonde opened her eyes.

"I sometimes forget the beauty in people," Klaus mumbled, cool breath blowing over her face. "Thank you for reminding me."

She couldn't contain her smile at the kind words, nor her pleasure at the sensation.

"How long have we been out?"

"Nurse came in about a half hour ago. Said it was 10:30 in the morning."

Squeezing her eyes, Abby felt another calm shake coarse through her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, opening her eyes.

"I can move a bit more, but it still feels like I'm ripping my limbs open by doing so."

Flinching, Abby's eyes attempted to fall into the same guilt of the night before, but Klaus gave a half shake of his head.

"Not your fault," he reminded.

She remained quiet, content with the gesture. That is, until two things happened at once.

One, Klaus's expression changed. Drastically.

It went from relaxed to intense in a matter of seconds. She noted the shift directly after his eyes scanned over her lips. And he followed the shift by leaning his head closer across the pillow.

Already during the night, they'd both found themselves involuntarily moving toward each other, bodies seeking the nearest heat source. So it would have been only mere centimeters the man had to lean in before their lips touched.

And then, the second thing occurred.

Abby thought it was the nurse who opened the door at first, but the lack of a voice threw her off. Reluctantly, she moved her head toward the entrance, only to find Heiter standing there.

His completely emotionless stare almost seemed inhuman. Even when he'd held her in captivity, he had never displayed an expression so effortlessly blank.

For a moment, she stayed frozen in place, unsure of what his next move would be.

Only when he continued to stay firmly grounded, did Abby find the courage to say something.

"Sorry," she said, pulling herself up on one hand. "I should have been ready to go earlier, but I just woke up."

Klaus shifted beside her, attempting to sit up, but failing.

His indifference did not dissipate and this made Abby all the more uncomfortable.

Finally, both of his eyes closed for a second before reopening. His features regressed into a barely concealed politeness.

"Hurry up."

The two words made her want to yell back at him, but time was of the essence.

"Okay. I'll be out in the hallway shortly," she promised.

He took one last look at their position before retreating, shutting the door behind him.

Abby let out a breath she hadn't known she was keeping in and pushed up into a seating position. She was ready to slip out of the bed when Klaus reached out and grabbed her arm.

"I need to tell you something before you go," he mentioned quickly. "Something I feel like you have to know."

Surprised, Abby slipped her arm out of his grip and pushed herself on to the floor. Just as she'd predicted, her entire lower body tingled painfully at the action.

"What?" she asked curiously, facing him.

Klaus watched her for awhile, eyebrows in a straight line.

"You appear like you're well equipped with studying emotions," he finally admitted.

"Something I inherited from my dad," she agreed.

"Have you ever taken any psychology classes?"

Unsure where he was going, Abby said, "In college, I took an intro class and an advanced placement. Just to make sure I knew what I was seeing and talking about."

Nodding, Klaus grimaced as he tried again at pulling himself up into a sitting position. When Abby was ready to ask if he needed help, the man succeeded with a pained sigh.

"Do you need me to get the nurse?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I need to have this conversation before you leave, most likely forever."

Fighting back the urge to frown, Abby bit at her lip.

"What are the chances of it being forever?" she asked.

"I know you want to go home," he pointed out. "You've been in this country for nearly six months."

Shrugging, Abby met Klaus's green stare.

"So, continue on."

Klaus glanced down at his knees for a moment, eyes calculative.

"In your psychology courses, had they ever discussed a mental disorder called Syndromia?"

Furrowing her brow, the blonde crossed her arms.

"Not that I remember. What is it?"

The psychiatrist brought his gaze back to hers, but the warmness had seemed to seep out of his eyes.

Just as he was ready to reply, a bang sounded through the door.

"I'll be out in a few minutes!" she shouted.

The banging ceased.

Turning back, Abby sighed.

"Now...what is Syndromia?"

"Not many specialists acknowledge its existence because of how little amount of cases there are to study it. But it is a situation that may happen more frequently than realized. During an instance of kidnapping-."

As soon as the word kidnapping was out of Klaus's mouth, Abby's eyes narrowed.

"If this is some Stockholm Syndrome bullshit you're going to subject me through, I'll leave without even saying goodbye. I swear I'll do it."

Before he had a chance to reply, Abby backed further away from him.

"From the moment Heiter had me in that basement, I made sure to never become a victim. In every fucking sense of the word, Klaus. I made sure not to depend on him until it was necessary to survive. I made sure to never form a bond or attachment. If you think-."

"Abby," he interrupted harshly, then softened his voice, "I know you don't have Stockholm Syndrome. If you did, you would have never left his home. You are far too self sufficient."

She relaxed slightly at his words.

"Syndromia is different."

"And you feel like I need to know what it is?"

"Yes," he stated. "Yes I do."

"Okay...go ahead."

"From what I learned, Syndromia is like a reverse case of Stockholm Syndrome."

Confused, Abby felt her mind latch on to the information. Anytime knowledge about the human psyche was presented to her, she couldn't help but feel a sort of devotion to understand its origin.

"Explain."

"In Stockholm Syndrome, the patient forms an attachment to their captor. Sees their captor's decision to keep them alive as an act of love. And over time, as the kidnapped victim becomes more at ease with their captor, their bond becomes stricter. Nearly to the point where each terrible thing their captor does, the victim is able to find a counteractive excuse for it."

Abby nodded, thinking over the most famous case. The case that first termed the phrase in Sweden back in the 90's.

"When the gunmen were finally found," she recalled, "the victims payed for the trial."

"You understand this then?"

"Of course."

"Well...Syndromia is what happens to the captor in the case of their victim remaining independent."

Puzzled, Abby said, "In what way?"

"It starts with the captor clearly seeing their victim's refusal to bend to their whim."

"Doesn't the captor simply kill the victim if they get like this?"

"That's what distinguishes Syndromia. Throughout this time process, as the victim keeps their own sense of control, the captor observes it and becomes in a sense, attracted to it. Of course it all depends on the person. Too much defiance or incorrigibility and the victim is easily killed as you mentioned. However, in the rare cases, the captor's motives for keeping the victim start to subtly shift. Outwardly, they may still threaten the victim's life or make it seem like their days are numbered, but on the inside, they are slowly becoming not only attracted to their victim, but in a sense, obsessive. This continuous spiral may ultimately change the reason why the captor had kidnapped their victim in the first place."

Abby slowed down Klaus's words, attempting to make sense of them.

"So...if some crazy guy kidnapped a girl and intended to kill her, Syndromia would force him to...become attracted to her and decide not to kill her?"

"It's a bit more complex than that. The captor doesn't even realize this shift is occurring. They justify their actions not to kill or harm their victim as nothing more than mercy. All the while, the attraction becomes intense and undying."

Hesitantly, the blonde tugged at her lower lip before releasing it.

"Why are you telling me about this?" she asked, eyes fixed on his.

Klaus exhaled carefully.

"Because I think Heiter has been in the process of experiencing Syndromia for quite awhile now."

Nothing could have prepared her for the words. Absolutely not one single, fucking thing. Abby just stood there, not believing the explanation.

"He doesn't," she argued. "I mean sure, he definitely doesn't hate me as much as he used to, but that hardly means anything."

The brunette studied her features further, contemplating his words.

"Abby...you may not see it because you're so distracted about what's going on, but Heiter has formed an entirely unhealthy attachment to you."

"Klaus-."

"And before you go off on me, let me explain. I noticed his behavior around and toward you even before you informed me of the actual events that took place. On purpose, I acted out certain demonstrations just to gouge his reaction."

"Like what?" she asked in disbelief.

"Holding your hand before we entered Ivan's home. Standing closer to you than needed. Looking at you. Being more possessive toward you than he initially was."

Her disbelief morphed into hurt.

"So you acted like you liked me to prove a theory?"

"No," he argued, fighting to leave his sitting position. "No. Everything I initiated, every contact, was intentional. Because I enjoyed being around you. But I couldn't help studying Heiter's reaction either. To see if I was right so I could warn you."

Huffing, Abby shook her head.

"Warn me about what?" she asked with a dangerously low voice.

"About what his Syndromia could turn into," he indicated forcefully. "All of the results with the few studies we had, were not a good outcome for the victim. Most of them were never seen again."

"How could you possibly think he has Syndromia? He. Doesn't. Like. Me."

"You're the first person he's going to hide it from," Klaus bit back. "Whenever I stood near you, there was a split second of fury on his face. When I took your hand, you didn't see his step forward to rip it away. You don't see it because you're distracted. No one blames you for that. But the man does not act toward you like he should. That initial hate he had in the beginning, should have resulted in your death numerous times. I hate to say this, but it's the truth. Haven't you wondered why he hadn't killed you for having the wrong blood type? Or saving your friends? Or kissing him? The way he's opened up to you, but refuses to anybody else, is not typical of a captor-captive relationship. If these aren't the exact symptoms I learned about, then I don't know what the hell is going on. But I am giving you this warning, Abby. Heiter cares for you far deeper than you do for him. And you know how dangerously intelligent he is. Eventually, something will shift in your relationship. Unfortunately, I can't say it will be in your favor."

Inhaling a few careful breaths, Abby met Klaus's eyes.

"I appreciate your attempt at diagnosing him," she voiced softly. "When in captivity, I attempted to do the exact same thing. In fact, I nearly drove myself crazy just deciphering why he did what he did. But Klaus...Syndromia? Really? I would have noticed _some_ sort of change."

"Your case is entirely different. Probably the first of its kind. No longer are you two restricted to one setting. He is forced to put his trust in you, hoping the same will be given in return. The change in your relationship has come so subtly you probably haven't given much thought to it. And if you have, you most likely attribute it to him having a good day. But it is there."

Rolling back her shoulders, the blonde glanced at the door.

"Logically, Klaus. That's what I'm looking at. You weren't there the night he held that gun to my head. If I would not have opened my eyes, he would have easily killed me. The thing that you confuse as Syndromia, is nothing but his hate receding for the time being. Yes, we have gotten more used to each other. But I'm leaving after Ivan is found and Heiter has absolutely no qualms of stopping me. He was even the first one to suggest it. I do appreciate your time at explaining this, but you're mistaken. Maybe I haven't explained the events that took place between us greatly enough. He hates being responsible for me, even more, when I make him do something completely foreign from how he usually acts. I know these symptoms first hand. What he's feeling right now is probably nothing more than confusion as to why I'm not dead yet and irritation about me not having said goodbye to you quickly."

Abby could sense Klaus wanted to continue the discussion, perhaps even have mentioned it the night before, but she was completely sure of her viewpoint.

The truth was, Klaus wasn't in her shoes during Heiter's phases of malignant anger and chaotic insanity. There was no way he could diagnose the man's actions in just a few days, with something she'd never heard of, much less witnessed the symptoms to. Not just that, but Heiter didn't feel those kind of things. As childish as it was, Abby still believed the doctor to be somewhat asexual.

"I'm sorry I couldn't convince you then," Klaus said, frowning. "And I'm sorry we have to part like this."

"Klaus...," she paused, "I'm glad I met you. If not for your leads, I'd have never discovered everything that I have so far."

His frown switched directions.

"You're making me sound like an old man."

Grinning, Abby shrugged.

"I think we're both a bit older than our ages give us credit for."

He nodded in agreement.

"Thank you. Maybe someday after all of this chaos, we'll meet again."

Instead of the smile she expected, Klaus's features turned forlorn. He glanced at the door, then back at her.

"I know you don't want to discuss it any longer, but I just want to mention...the expression on his face when he came in and saw us laying in the cot together...had you ever seen that before?"

Despite the instinct not to, Abby found herself remembering the completely naked expression.

"No," she said. "I haven't. But I've only known him for a minimal portion of his life. I'm sure he reacted the same way when his fiance-."

She stopped herself just in time, shocked at the words that were ready to leave her mouth.

_C'mon, say them. Say them and get this awkwardness over with._

Blinking, one of her thumbs brushed at her jeans.

_When his fiance cheated on him._

But saying it inside her head did nothing to cover up the actual comparison.

"Goodbye," she said.

When Klaus voiced his, she pretended not to have heard it. She couldn't afford to no matter how adamant he was about his observation.

_I know why I came to Germany. The events unfolding within people's lives are not things for me to become involved in._

She squelched the voice that asked if she hadn't already done just that.

APHAPHAPHAPH

They rode back in silence. That was the only way Abby could describe the drive. No words, no exchanges. Just silence.

She was too tired to start up a conversation about Ivan's whereabouts, and too busy trying to pry away Klaus's words.

It was no surprise that by the time they'd reached the capital city, Abby was ready to have a long, clean shower.

"Have you any theories of Ivan's whereabouts?" she asked as he turned on to the house's driveway.

"None circumstantial," he admitted formally.

Relaxing at his coldness, Abby studied her knees. Some of Klaus's blood still stayed soaked inside of the jeans despite her harsh cleansing.

"Is it safe to assume the bullet shot into Klaus was the same found inside Steffan's body?"

Heiter stopped the vehicle and ripped out the keys.

"I would think so."

"Me too. The diameter on both of their abdomen areas were nearly identical. And Steffan nearly bled to death from that exact shot to his stomach. Most of Klaus's blood came from the same area as well."

"A multiple homicide murderer," Heiter commented. "His death truly will not be grieved."

Nodding, Abby placed a hand underneath her chin.

"I've got an idea," she finally announced. "Actually, I've had it since last night. It's about where Ivan could be."

"Really?"

Gazing at him, Abby found herself containing a laugh at his expression.

"I'm not that stupid," she mumbled, hand over her mouth. "I understand he's got a very huge jump on us and the chance that my idea is accurate, is slim at best. But...it has to do with the two objects we found in Sarah's envelopes. The two we hadn't yet used as a clue. In fact, at first, I thought they were just mementos Sarah had saved to remind me of my dad."

"The watch and the photo," he finished.

"Yes...I think she was trying to tell us something about Ivan. Something that he had in common with my dad."

When she explained her theory, Heiter gave her such an astonished look she was convinced she'd recalled the square root of pi.

"You are really surprised at my ability to think today," she noticed, arms crossed as she studied him out of the corner of her eye.

"The task of you thinking never ceases to surprise me," he answered with a slight up turn of his lips.

Again, Abby had to keep back her smile. This time, it was because of what Klaus had said.

_Is this our relationship becoming so at ease that I haven't even realized it?_

She punched the thought away, metaphorically yelling at it to never come back. There was simply no time.

"I'll shower later," Abby said when he gave her a hesitant scan.

"Then we will depart."

With a flawless U-turn, Heiter maneuvered them back on to the road leading into Berlin.

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><p><strong>Note that Syndromia is not a real mental disorder. It was invented in my imagination. Let me know your thoughts in a review!<strong>


	20. Chapter 20

**I can't believe I've got 20 chapters for this story. What's more? I've got 50 reviews! Thank you every single one of you for contributing to this story, even when it was at its worst. It means so, so much to me that readers could still be enthralled with a topic like this. It shows your brilliant open mindedness and your resolve with sticking to a story. Again, thank you so very very much! When I'm done with the story, you're all getting a handful of internet and an inclusion in my future Oscar speech (it'll happen, damn it! even if I'm dragged off the stage by force!). As always, another chapter for my beautiful readers. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 20 - Unique Understandings<strong>

Sentimental.

This one word alone happened to be the basis of Abby's entire theory regarding Ivan's location.

As they navigated through the busy traffic of afternoon Berlin, Abby found herself recalling their former conversation and hoping desperately, even if the possibility was narrow, that her theory proved accurate. Otherwise, everything she'd gone through in the past five months would mean absolutely nothing. And that loss was far too harsh to even consider bearing.

"I don't think Sarah sent us the Donald Duck watch and photo of my dad by the Spree River just for keepsakes'," she had explained to Heiter in the dead silence of his car.

"Are you sure?"

"No...but something about Ivan has been bugging me. The man had an extraordinarily opportune moment to leave the country and make sure I'd never find him. Instead, he kills Steffan, then retreats to his farm house in Grimmen."

"Perhaps it is stupidity?"

"Killing Steffan wasn't stupidity. He wanted all of the loose ends sealed shut. And I could agree with you about him returning to the farm house. Especially if he thought Sarah might key us in about his location."

At this, Heiter had stopped her with a hand.

"I do not believe Ivan knew we'd find him. With Sarah dead, he thought it just another loose end sealing itself. The farm house was safe."

"But there's still the fact that he went back to it. Could have easily retreated. Very easily, in fact. He doesn't. Why?"

He stared at her for a long moment, acknowledging the excitement in her features.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because he's sentimental. Places and people mean something to him. The farm house is connected to a time of intense bliss and relaxation. Then Steffan. He carried out his death far longer than he had to. We both saw the blood stains lead through various areas of the house. Steffan must have been bleeding heavily for five minutes straight before reaching his room. His body had three bullet holes. Overkill."

Heiter still seemed confused, but he inclined his head to show she had his attention.

"The Spree River," she mentioned. "My dad stood in front of it, but we don't know who took the picture."

"Why would this area be of value for Ivan?"

"Maybe the last place my dad was seen alive? I know in it, he didn't look pleased about the picture being taken. I don't think it had to do with the scenery, but rather the person taking it. For some reason, this place was of importance for Ivan."

"This is a very improbable idea."

"At least it's something," she argued.

Sighing, Heiter rolled back his shoulders.

"And the watch?"

"The watch," Abby explained. "Again, could have been just a random keepsake. But...the arrows were stuck on 2:02. It could mean AM, or PM. I think the latter just because of the lighting when the picture was taken."

"Ivan took this picture of your father at 2:02 in the afternoon...so how does this explain his whereabouts?"

"He's sentimental," she repeated with a sly grin. "Before he leaves Germany for the final time, he'll want to come back to the same place. I'm betting he knew exactly what time period he'd taken the picture during and the area provides a source of excitement for him. Imagine having the photo of a man you know you're going to kill in a matter of hours, posed at a certain area? Once the person is dead, a part of you will want to return to that area. Maybe to remember what occurred or to get a sexual fix? Who knows. But the area is like a relic. One that I believe Ivan will go back to a final time before he runs for it."

"That is very risky to do," he commented, but not disbelievingly.

"Had we not had the photo and watch, you and I would be searching everywhere BUT a crowded street in the capital city. In fact, we'd assume he was long gone. But, we DO have the remaining two clues that haven't been used yet and Sarah was counting on her husband being sentimental after her death. She knew if we didn't get him at one location, there was still the opportunity to get him at the other, provided we connected the two pieces of information."

This was when the barely concealed astonishment had materialized on to his features.

And although both of them were aware it was one hell of a long shot, the sudden reality of giving up didn't settle well for either.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"Right here?" he asked, turning off the ignition.

Abby squinted through the throngs of people passing by the Spree River.

"Yes," she said after a second. "I engraved that photo into my head. This is the place."

She glanced down at the car's digital clock and internally breathed a sigh of relief. With over-sleeping at the hospital and the two and a half hour journey back, they'd just barely got to the place in time.

Slowly, 1:59 switched to 2:00.

Her eyes shot back up, doubting her theory already. But without it, she had nothing. Clutching on to some sort of hope was better than admitting there was none left.

So, the two waited patiently.

There was a long stretch of area to cover and far too many persons to trace. Some strolled by in groups, blocking out others standing near the edge of the river. Others simply stopped in place to tie a shoe or light a smoke. Other than that, no one from their vantage point appeared like they were standing in place to observe the scenery because of some sick fascination.

When 2:01 was dangerously close to unveiling the next number, but Ivan was still a no show.

_What are the chances of me being right? It's completely ludicrous to attempt to connect a time and place together. Ivan is probably on a train into Switzerland right now, laughing at the display of some American girl._

This thought made her so furious she nearly punched the dashboard.

Without incident, 2:02 came and went. Everything was as normal. No sign of drifters hesitating in a spot for too long of a time, nor a man with Ivan's physique.

The disappointment didn't strike as brutally as she imagined it would. Still, Abby reckoned there was enough time for that later.

2:10 was glowing in black numbers when Abby suddenly inhaled.

Without meaning to, her eyes had strolled lazily to the street across. Something in her mind briefly entertained the idea of an observation other than the ideal spot. Ivan would want to be cautious as well.

And that's how her emerald gaze found the man sheltered beneath a news stand. He wore a long, brown trench coat with a fedora. With the chill Berlin weather, he hardly seemed out of place. But Abby recognized that stance immediately.

"Directly ahead, in between the lamp post and the news stand," she indicated quietly, feeling like just the tiniest raise in volume would alert Ivan to their presence.

"I see him," Heiter expressed, one hand slamming the keys back in.

The man stood glued to his position, not acknowledging his scenery nor any of the persons passing him.

"How long do you think he's been there?"

"Difficult to tell," he muttered. "Once he makes a movement, I will begin following him."

Nodding, Abby fought to keep back her hyper-activeness. She wanted to do nothing more than fling herself out on to the street, gun in hand, and unleash a round of bullets into the statuesque man.

_People passing him by would never know he was a murderer. God, just the casualness is freaky._

When she was just about to suggest getting out of the car and dragging him back, Ivan made his move.

Immediately, Heiter threw the vehicle into drive and slowly maneuvered into traffic.

Trailing him was a far easier task than finding him. Since the traffic lazed on like a senior citizen's fair, they were able to successfully keep Ivan in their view. A few times he'd been thrown into a mass of people, but his irritated form always made its way out.

"He's turning," she said.

They waited a few seconds until he was further down the street before doing the same, keeping back the speed slightly under the limit. If he was made aware of their presence in any way, he'd sprint. And that would be a mess to find him in.

The next ten minutes really was a test of wills. Ivan would glance behind him, paranoid perhaps of a person walking too close. At this time, Abby sunk back into the car seat, nervous that his gaze would stray toward the road. The more turns he took, the more sparse of scenery he surrounded himself with.

After a particularly close call in which he'd stopped walking completely and the vehicle behind them wasn't as patient with their sluggish speed - honking their horn angrily in the process - Abby realized something.

"Heiter...does Ivan know what you look like? I mean...did he actually see you at the farm house?"

"No," the man answered slowly.

"If he sees me," she continued, eyes glued to the side street, "our cover will be blown. Let me jump in the backseat."

He didn't protest this.

Once she was crouched on the leather seating behind the driver, Abby felt safer.

Their trail lasted a full 20 minutes, leading them further and further from the busy center of Berlin. Abby wasn't sure whether Ivan had walked the entire way there, or brought a car. Either way, it was impressive how intricate he had made his pathway.

An abrupt stop caused Abby's form to slip across the seats and drop into the leg compartment below.

"Ouch," she mumbled, rubbing her head. "Who taught you how to hit the breaks?"

"The same person who taught you to remain quiet," he replied. "Ivan is getting in his vehicle."

Carefully, Abby lifted herself off the car floor and glanced up.

At the same time, Heiter slammed his foot down on the pedal. Back into the seats she went, hitting her head.

"Damn it, Heiter, you jackass! I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose!"

She was surprised to hear his quiet laugh, but he didn't say anything afterward. Instead, when she lifted herself, she saw Ivan had indeed made a speedy recovery onto the road.

"We will have to put careful distance between us now," Heiter relayed back to her.

Nodding, Abby quickly sat herself down behind the driver's seat. She didn't want to end up back on the floor.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Initially, following Ivan was easy. He was less of a paranoid driver than he was a walker.

However, as they departed from the inner city limits, the man began to speed up. Most likely, this was his nervousness sprouting up. He'd weave his way around cars impatiently, passing them like a man on a mission.

_If only they knew._

"Any idea where he's heading?" she asked after they'd merged on to a highway.

"East," he answered. "There are no major cities this way and if he continues on, we will reach Poland by the end of the night."

"Son of a bitch," she muttered.

The next hour was spent in relative silence, keeping back two or three car lengths from Ivan's. He rode in a cheap, black, Chevy Impala. From her view, the vehicle had no damage and appeared in good shape.

The more distance they'd covered, the less optimistic Abby felt.

_My travel's visa is getting renewed right now. If we enter Poland, it'll have to be by smuggling me in._

Although the thought was dismal, Abby found herself completely willing to do it. Now that they had a trace on Ivan, it would take death for her to part from him. She'd haunt him after death were she given the opportunity.

"Heiter?" she gently stated.

"Yes?" he said, the tiniest hint of surprise in his voice.

For a moment, Abby glanced down at her jeans. She ignored Klaus's blood still splattered inside the fabric and instead, pulled at a loose string on the innards of her knee.

Clearing her throat, she let out an inaudible sigh.

"Thank you," she voiced.

"For what?"

There was definite confusion in his tone now.

Shrugging, she glanced up at the rear view mirror. His brown gaze was fixed on her, eyes narrowed as if she was partaking in some practical joke.

She didn't say anything momentarily, simply staring back at him.

"Everything you've done for me."

And this admission did concern her briefly. She was thanking the man who'd intended to do some truly repulsive things to her, murder being one of them.

But some part of her - maybe a personal brand of idiocy - couldn't hold back the gratitude. Without his help, they'd be back into the role of captive and captor inside his house, in the middle of nowhere. A role that eventually would have forced her to attempt suicide again. No one could live that way forever.

This journey they were on had opened up Abby's eyes the way a grandfather bestows wisdom to his grandchildren. Because of it, she was stronger. Because of it, she was smarter.

Most importantly - she was aware. No longer in the dark about her dad's fate in this mysterious country.

And being aware, even if the information wasn't what she wanted to hear, made EVERYTHING worth it.

Heiter didn't respond, but this hardly came as a surprise. To him, it was most likely just another comment his wacky American companion threw on to him.

Still, she hoped a part of him did understand her gratitude. Maybe in seeing he had helped someone rather than harmed, life around human beings would be just a tad bit more bearable.

Maybe.

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><p><strong>The whole bit about Abby explaining sentimentalism with a photo - remember in the movie, Heiter carried that photo of his 3 centipede dog. I'd like to think he knew exactly what she meant about looking at certain pictures and feeling the same emotion they'd felt during that time period. Whoa, we only have a few chapters left! Aren't you excited? Let me know your thoughts in a review my faithful readers!<strong>


	21. Chapter 21

**Thank you SO SO SO SO much for the reviews. Ugh, akdhfhhgnzkjpaoe! That's what they make me do. And then I go and write a chapter, talk to my therapist on the phone about how I got the idea to make such a strange story, before finally repeating the cycle. I will say there are German to English translations at the very bottom of the page for a few instances of dialogue. Also, I'm very excited that everything is coming to a conclusion...and many of you have speculated as to how I am going to end this. Well, I will say again that I've been set on the ending from the moment I first wrote the summary of the story and since I adore it, there's very little chance of me changing it. It may not exactly be what you expect, but I find that those are the best stories. I do want to mention that Abby wants to go home...badly. I may not write that in often, but she's exhausted from her ordeal and wants nothing more than the comfort of her own home. The ONLY reason she's stayed so long is for her dad's sake. Anyway, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 21 - Vulnerable Virtue<strong>

"He's turning off the highway."

Abby's eyes scanned for his vehicle.

"Is there some sort of town this way?" she asked, confused.

"No, but a few miles ago indicated a gas station."

Biting at her lip, Abby held on to the seat as they veered off the highway and continued their stealthy pursuit.

"We've got to make up some sort of plan," she finally voiced. "This might be the only stop he'll make before entering Poland."

"What do you suggest?"

"You approach him. Act like you're lost or looking for directions. He won't recognize you. Try to get him to a deserted area."

"And then?"

"Then-."

The thought of Heiter physically over powering Ivan without the use of some sort of drug, was laughable. In fact, she nearly informed him of this. But midway through, realized it was only the sort of humor she'd find funny.

So, she thought of a Plan B.

"You approach him," she began again. "I'll watch the direction you guys go and follow."

"What good will that do?"

"A whole lot since I've got a gun."

At his puzzled look, she pulled out the loaded glock.

"Klaus's," she mentioned. "I took it off his body before we entered the hospital. It'd be a bit suspicious if he was found carrying it."

"You will threaten him?"

"I might even shoot him right away," Abby admitted.

Although not formally agreed upon, the plan was at least some sort of step toward apprehending Ivan.

So, their car continued another three miles of turning off more and more frequently deserted roads.

"It would appear we must catch him now," Heiter mentioned. "We are the only car behind him and if he recognizes us on the way back to the highway, he will become suspicious if he has not already done so."

Abby inhaled, trying not to let her anxiety mingle in with her task.

Finally, Ivan pulled off the road into a grungy looking gas station. Four pumps sat outside while a separate garage stood for oil changes.

"Down," he ordered.

She did as told, but not before seeing Heiter pull past the Impala. He took another sharp turn, wheels bouncing over the bumpy ground.

Eventually, he must have parked next to a pump because his keys were soon thrusted out and eventually, into his hand.

"We are lucky to be the only ones here," the man commented.

Abby's ear picked up the grumbling of the highway six miles off. Even the distance couldn't completely mute the sound.

_That way, if I pull the trigger, it'll be less of an ordeal to explain the noise._

"I would hate to use my gun before you do," Heiter expressed, still staring ahead. "Make sure to come right away. And Abby...it would be ideal not to kill him here. We have been fortunate to have our messes cleaned up. This one will be on our hands if it does not go well."

_That's got to me the most sensible thing he's said since I've met him._

"I know. Go do your magic, Johnson."

She could practically visualize the confusion overrunning his features.

"It's an American thing," she whispered.

His reply was to swing open the car door and step out.

After that, Abby was forced to keep taking careful glances through the windshield. Ivan was parked directly ahead, and for the moment, stood facing the pump. He made no move to look around or observe his surroundings.

Heiter stood on the opposite side of the vehicle, making a note of glancing down at his car and then at the pump. As if he was unsure whether he would make the journey he'd embarked on.

Finally, the surgeon glanced over and began his approach.

Abby would have paid a fair amount of money to witness Heiter interacting with a complete stranger in a polite manner. Unfortunately, her duty was to observe as little as possible.

Their words were muffled from inside the car. But Abby wouldn't have been able to hear them anyway. With the source of heat gone, her form began shivering quickly. It must have been in the mid 30's outside.

_God, what I would do for a shower._

Ducking down as both men did a casual scan her way, the blonde gripped on to the leather seat. One hand reached for the gun imprisoned within the waste-band of her pants.

_Why not from here? Clean, straight shot._

But she knew this thought to be ridiculous. Ivan may have murdered her dad, but even he would be disappointed with the lack of invention taken to bring the murderer down. It wasn't like her dad simply mowed over his victims without planning. He took careful steps and intricate detailing before luring the men to their deaths.

So focused on her plans, Abby nearly missed altogether the two men's sudden shuffling away from the gas pumps.

Snapping herself into focus, the blonde lifted her head up a bit to peek over the dashboard from the backseat.

_Where are they going? _

Carefully, she grasped on to the car door and as easily as she could, inched it open. One by one, her body crawled out of the vehicle and upon a final crouch, she pressed the door back. The snap made her slowly move upward until she was able to see over the roof of the car.

Already, Ivan and Heiter were halfway to the separate garage. Whatever Heiter had said, Ivan was convinced enough to follow him.

Abby gripped the gun through her jeans as she reached the first gas pump. The garage was about forty feet away from the main station.

_Fucking brilliant._

Heiter wasn't just heading that way for fun. He was casually leading Ivan _into_ the garage rather than behind it. That way, the confrontation would be far more private.

Just before he took the man inside, he inclined his head over the station pump area.

_I'm guessing that's the signal._

With an agility far too graceful for the discomfort she was feeling in her lower body, Abby broke into a sprint. No cars passed by the entire time from her take off nor did the station manager think it odd that some woman was running across a stretch of land like the Jehovah's Witness were personally trying to convert her.

Already, she could hear the voices resonating from inside the garage and with one last thought, Abby pulled out Klaus's gun and aimed it directly ahead of her.

By the time she entered the spacious area with dim lighting, Heiter had his gun trained on Ivan as well.

The man in question looked neither surprised nor fearful. His hands weren't raised either, bugging the blonde far more than it should.

"Get down on your knees," she demanded through chattering teeth.

"Machen mir, hure," he spat.

Whatever his garbeled German was made Heiter step closer and force the tip of his gun into the side of the man's skull.

"Nach unten oder ich mache dich," Heiter threatened, pushing the gun in more insistently.

Ivan's eyes traveled quickly to the gun at his head before exhaling. When Abby's murderous expression ceased to make an exit, the man finally began kneeling on the cold concrete.

"Check him for a weapon," Abby suggested, inching further into the garage.

Heiter did so with his gun pointed directly at Ivan's forehead.

He pulled out the man's own loaded weapon seconds later, then slid it toward her across the floor. She stopped it with the front of one shoe.

"Keep the gun on him," Heiter ordered. "Shoot if he attempts to move."

"I was planning on it," she replied.

Heiter briefly lowered his weapon, only to pull out a pair of handcuffs.

He went to stand behind Ivan and tugged his arms up. This forced the man into a bending position before him as Heiter worked on throwing one wrist within a cuff, and then another.

Finally, he withdrew and went to stand beside him again.

Both were caught offguard when the man started cackling, softly at first, then louder until the echoes could be heard around the entire garage.

Through his graying, caramel hair, Ivan's nearly black eyes locked on to Abby's. They seemed to be conveying a silent message.

When his mad laughter finally ceased, he twisted his lips into a triumphant grin.

"Your father," he began, voice gravely and low, "begged like a little girl. I promised to kill his own after I get done with him."

And when he smirked, Abby couldn't control her next instinct.

Her feet stomped the distance toward the man. Heiter seemed not to care what went on from there since he had successfully handcuffed the man. But he retreated from his position cautiously, gun still pointed at the man's head.

Just before she reached Ivan's kneeling position, Abby swung out a foot and threw it forward. The bottom of her sole solidly connected with Ivan's face and sent him sprawling backwards with a short cry as his bound hands were forced to carry his weight. A muffled _clunk! _was heard as skull met concrete and before he had a chance to complain, Abby swiftly moved to kneel over his stomach.

With a firm grasp, she grabbed his chin and forced it up toward her. Then, with careful precision, she turned off the safety on the gun and slowly moved it closer and closer to Ivan's mouth. When it was barely a centimeter away, she stopped.

"You seem to think," she whispered, her voice light and completely devoid of any sympathy, "that I have a problem killing you in a public place. I assure you I do not."

Ivan stretched opened his mouth to reply, but Abby was hoping for this. Before he could close it, she stuck the barrel of the gun straight into his mouth, knocking at his marble teeth, and paused just over the hole leading down to his throat.

"Now...what was this about my dad screaming?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

The man still showed no fear, but the signs of trepidation did become apparent. As if he wasn't quite believing the rage barely contained inside her.

"I will go get his car," Heiter mentioned. "He has already pre paid for gas with his credit card."

Abby hardly heard him, but she did acknowledge his sudden grip on her shoulder.

"For a minute, refrain from doing it."

She nodded, eyes glued to the man on the floor.

When Heiter was out of hearing distance, she leaned down a little further.

"You better hope my finger doesn't accidentally slip."

APHAPHAPHAPH

As Heiter exited Ivan's vehicle, he glanced down at the unconscious man with bewilderment. Blood was seeping from his nose while a puffiness began forming across the crown of his forehead.

"I had to knock him out," Abby reasoned, standing a good few feet away. "We can't have him alerting people to what's happening. All of this would have been a waste then."

"Reasonable," he slowly answered. "Two vehicles have just pulled in as well. We will keep his body in his car."

After concealing their weapons, the pair stood on opposite sides of the unconscious man.

"Lift on three," she motioned.

After a silent count down, they grabbed on to the man and carried him over to the backseat of the Impala. Heiter had already opened the door and they made a hasty movement of throwing his body inside. Especially when Abby caught a glimpse of all the people scattered by the pumps.

Heiter retrieved Ivan's weapon soon after and threw it in the passenger seat.

"I'll follow you," she indicated, eyes straying toward the driver's seat.

"No."

Glancing back, Abby let out a sigh.

"I'm not going to-."

"You might," he ascertained. "With the emotions driving you at this moment, you very well might. Take my car and follow. I want you calm upon interrogation."

She fought internally against his command, but ultimately knew he was right. If Ivan woke up while she was driving and continued to bait her, there was no telling what sort of position they'd be in.

"Fine," she agreed.

With a final shared look, Abby retreated from the parking garage with Heiter's keys wrapped tightly in her palm.

_God forbid I do kill him quickly. Maybe I'll carry it out like he did to my dad._

For a moment, she stopped in her footsteps.

_It's been so easy to fuel my actions based on the raw emotions. But if I do kill him and get pleasure out of it...will that make me just as bad as him?_

Minutes later, she was pulling out of the gas station, trailing the Impala.

_At least I've got a good hour and a half to think this over._

* * *

><p><strong>More lovely German to English translations :<strong>

**Machen mir, hure : make me, whore**

**Nach unten oder ich mache dich : down or I will make you**

**Whew! They FINALLY got the bastard. And of course after 5 months of searching, Abby isn't going to take any bull hockey from him! Personally, I love passive-aggressive Abby. Let me know your thoughts in a review!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you as always for the reviews. They helped get a third chapter up in just three days. I might have this entire thing finished by the start of next week! Now that is a strange thought. One phrase at the very bottom is translated from German to English. I was just going over interviews from the cast members of this movie, the bored/interested duck that I am, and realized how disappointed the director would be with what I did to his idea. I humanized an inhuman character and made him seem likeable - even when that wasn't my intention, at least not directly. I took away what was horrifying about the movie and gave it a twist that makes it cringe-worthy. Thank god none of the cast members are bored enough to look up a fanfic story on this movie. Mr. Six and those associated with the movie call it a master piece and I've got to admit that it took writing this story for me to catch a glimpse of the reason why. But then there's that disappointment of ruining that master piece for them. I guess there's really nothing I can do about it. I had the idea, I had the inspiration from the character (most notably, Dr. Heiter), and I gave it my best shot. I only hope that's enough to consider it reasonably well intended. Ah well. Here's the next chapter. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22 - Wild Wanderlust<strong>

The steam washed around her like a mist, but Abby stalked through it without so much as an impressed glance. One hand swiped at the mirror, rubbing away the steam gathered there. The other declined to wrap a towel around herself.

Instead, she stared at her naked self. Her entire body burned from the much needed shower and each blonde lock dripped with the weight of the world, droplets gathering at her feet.

She sighed, then blinked.

But this gesture did nothing to help spur on a decision.

_What the hell am I going to do to him? _

A sadomasochistic side begged for sweet revenge.

A side raised on her dad's values and beliefs, offered a far more clever solution.

Both resulted in death eventually. And there in lied the problem.

She'd never killed someone before. Ever. Hell, she didn't even have the guts to strangle Heiter to death a few months ago, and that was him at his worst.

_If I can establish guilt and innocence based upon non circumstantial evidence, what kind of person does that make me? A vigilante who knows no bounds and believes the law to be strictly black and white? _

She rotated her neck, hearing a pleasant crack in reply. Not only was she desperately deprived of food, but sleep as well.

_Maybe I can take this slowly._

How slowly? Days? Weeks?

All Abby wanted was to feel safe and comforted again. Even if that home was devoid of any family members, at least it was still home.

_I can't afford to go slow. This whole ordeal is so tiring. So many months, leading into so many different directions. I'm just ready for this to end._

And yet...she still felt at odds. Perhaps with the person who'd revealed themselves inside the garage?

Vicious, cruel, and merciless.

That _wasn't_ her.

_I need to hear a confession. A description of what happened. And then I'll-._

Well, she'd make up her mind when the time came for it.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Abby was in the process of piling all of her clean clothes together when Heiter appeared at her door. Even months later, he still cared little for the invasion of privacy toward others.

Turning toward him, she offered a smile. Realistically, it felt more like a grimace.

She went back to her work, expecting the surgeon to began a conversation regarding their prisoner.

Instead, he remained silent.

"Has he said he was sorry?" Abby mumbled, folding the last pair of jeans before setting them down in a pile.

"No."

Abby observed all the clothes neatly stacked upon her bed and the bag full of the items first found inside, plus two new prizes. The photo of her dad by the Spree River and his Donald Duck watch which she'd try to clean the blood out of, but didn't quite succeed.

_I'll call Jakob in the morning to see when my travel's Visa will be renewed. If not that, there's always the US embassy._

Her fingers plucked out a roll of money from the bag and slowly, she counted the euros.

"This...is for you," she explained, approaching Heiter. "The clothes you bought me and the McDonalds that you look down on me for eating, but insist on paying for."

He looked at the money as if he'd never seen it before.

"You're taking this," she insisted, thrusting the wad at him. "It's the least I could do."

His gaze found hers and the intensity of it nearly made her recoil.

"Listen to the words you are saying," he expressed. "To the man you are saying them to."

"I've stopped asking myself why I'm thankful for your help a long time ago. Just take my debt and it'll make us both stop wondering."

Briefly, she thought she detected anger shift on to his features. But upon further study, it was just the slightest bit of disbelief.

Despite this, Heiter did grasp on to the euros and flick his fingers through.

"This is too much," he mentioned, not even halfway through counting.

"You helped me prove my dad wasn't a cold blooded serial killer. You helped me get into connections with people who knew my dad during his stay here," she listed, voice growing louder. "You helped me pursue someone that could have easily killed you. You helped persuade Jakob to let us use his home to hold our person of interest. And yes...what you did...what you attempted to do will NEVER be rid from my mind. But...I think there's a whole story behind your evolution into who you are now. And somewhere inside me, the same person who stopped me from murdering Ivan in cold blood, is sympathetic even to the most repulsive of human behaviors. Maybe I inherited that not from my dad, but from my mom. She had to live with someone whose fascination included hunting and murdering humans, no matter how inhuman they were themselves. I don't really know anymore. My priorities are kind of skewered. But I do know that I want you to have this money."

Her speech forced his fingers to stop counting, but again, Abby felt that same revolutionary shift between them. As if her words, her actions, had spewed out some sort of new, unacknowledged agreement in their "relationship".

"Thank you."

She was just as surprised to hear it as he was saying the words, but she offered a nod nonetheless.

When Abby watched his gaze travel behind her, she turned toward the bed.

"Whenever we're done with Ivan...I'm ready to get the hell out."

"You miss your home?"

Tilting her head, Abby bit at her lower lip. The thin nerve of raw emotion was just barely pressed upon with that question.

"I never thought I would after I left. What would be left for me there? But...I think that's been my safe house. The place I go when I have nothing left. The place I'll go to begin again. A fresh start."

Heiter didn't respond. Instead, he switched the subject to the man in the cellar.

"I came to say he is awake. Successfully gagged and restrained."

Taking a careful inhale and exhale, Abby glanced down at her feet.

"What are you going to let me do to him?" she asked, uncharacteristically shy.

He didn't answer until she physically met his eyes.

"Whatever you want."

APHAPHAPHAPH

Initially, Abby had given Klaus's gun to Heiter. Although they lived within a reasonably desolate portion of outer Berlin, she had a slight fear that someone at the right time would hear the gunshot go off.

Most importantly, however, she didn't want to use it. It felt cheap and too easy.

"If you wish for some alone time with him, tell me," Heiter suggested.

Abby didn't reply, but inclined her head toward him to show she understood.

The cellar was really a very small area, comparable to a kitchen or dining room. But Ivan sat rigidly in a chair, arms and legs securely bound to the wood, and made the room feel far more spacious.

_Maybe it's because of how submissive he looks._

"Hello, Ivan," she began evenly, moving toward the gagged man. "My name is Abby Post. My dad was Gregory. Remember him? I just want to talk about what happened twelve years ago. Could we do that?"

When he didn't reply, the blonde paused before him and carefully pulled down the dirty rag out from his lips.

"Rot in hell, spawn of Satan," he choked out, eyes full of hatred.

"Nice to meet you too," she greeted, crinkling her nose at the smell resonating from him.

"I will answer nothing. You are too weak to kill someone."

Shrugging, Abby backed up.

"Maybe you're right. But I am equipped with a level head and tons of information."

"You know nothing," he spat.

"I know that my dad killed your brother," she said. "And I know that made you rather...upset."

Internally, she grinned at the furious expression his face molded into.

"Upset? Your father deserved what Jonas and I did to him!"

Keeping her face indifferent, Abby glanced up.

"Jonas was involved as well?"

"Of course! He was Luca's brother. Our brother would have pissed in his grave if he knew we had left his murder unresolved."

_I helped death become easier for a man who helped murder my dad._

Shaking off the revelation, the blonde began a pace.

"But your brother was a murderer. Killed plenty of innocent people-."

"Innocent?" Ivan interrupted with a condescending laugh. "There exists no innocent people. Only those not yet corrupted."

"By society's standards, a teenage girl who just barely got her first kiss, is considered innocent. In no way does she deserve to be raped, tortured, and murdered."

"My brother-."

"Fuck your brother!" she denounced in a yell, facing him. "You are denying Luca's rampage because he is your brother. That's understandable. But do not try to convince me that what he did was in the name of good."

Ivan's glare turned mutinous, and then a small grin crept on to his features.

"Why were your father's actions justifiable? Perhaps you are feeling this denial as well."

"This isn't about my father's nature."

"But it is. His nature led to his death."

"How?"

The man opened his mouth, ready to retort, when he suddenly paused.

"That is clever," he admitted. "Trying to work me up emotionally. It will not work. I will face death before I tell you what happened."

To her own puzzlement, Abby wasn't feeling frustrated. Instead, she was confused.

_I've got most of the information. He's got to know that. Then why does he still guard it like it's a lifeline?_

"Luca comes to the US so he can escape suspicion from all of the murders taking place," she started, arms crossed. "After a few months, he stumbles into my dad's path and my dad being the far more clever one, kills him."

This comment forced one of Ivan's veins to throb through the thick skin of his neck, but his lips remained slammed shut.

"You and Jonas start to wonder when Luca will return. Try to contact him, contact US officials, but the man practically disappeared off the face of the earth. You don't want to make this a huge, international affair because you're afraid they may discover Luca's love for murdering innocent people. You've certainly got enough money to investigate yourself. What do you do? Hire a private investigator? Bribe someone in the justice system to check out what happened?"

The man still remained tight lipped, but Abby knew she was on the right track.

"Your mysterious source confirms that Luca is dead. But they also come bearing the information of my dad's true identity. Rather than share this information with the world, you decide you want to personally handle this. Personally show how pissed off you are about your brother's murder. But again, you can't do it outright. Everything has to be meticulously planned. You'll tell me if I'm wrong, won't you?"

Ivan continued his harsh, stony facial resistance.

"In comes Steffan. I'm guessing he was picked off some sort of convict or felons sheet. You see his crime of embezzlement or blackmail and realize he's the perfect person to lure my dad here. You convince him that he will solely profit off the idea and suggest how to make the story believable. So my dad will come and meet him. But...you didn't count on Steffan not going through with it. I guess that did work out in your favor in the end. You were able to slowly inch yourself into my dad's life here in Berlin."

"Mund halten, hure," Ivan retorted.

"What is it with your love of calling me a whore?" Abby asked, slightly amused despite the derogative term. "Have you personally been in the bedroom with me? I'm a very progressive person. I'd like to get to know someone first."

She smiled despite herself when the faintest trace of red seeped into Ivan's cheeks.

"Now...where was I? Yes. Soon, you and Jonas are able to pry my dad away from Steffan and slowly reveal your intentions. During this time period, I'm quite sure my dad met Sarah. And you may have convinced her that killing my dad was for the better for what he did to Luca. But I don't think even when the deed was done, she was still completely satisfied with what had happened."

Licking her lips, Abby stretched her arms above her.

"What I can't understand," she admitted, "is why there's a six month gap in which my dad remained untargeted, during which time he was able to send me a postcard with Steffan's address on the back. I mean...you had your man. And while his trust may have been not complete toward you, it was enough to make him stay. Why did it take six months for you two to finally kill him?"

For the briefest moment, Ivan's lips parted and a shadow of guilt etched into his wrinkled features.

"Why?" she asked again, softer.

"Y-you know nothing."

After that, he shut up. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. As if someone had sucked the life out of his features and gloated about the information she would never gain.

_What is he safeguarding? What could have possibly prevented him from carrying out the murder for six whole months? Then suddenly proceeding with it in a completely abhorrent manner._

Whatever the answer was, Abby reluctantly understood that tonight, she wasn't going to get it. If ever.

"He's not giving in," she mentioned to Heiter. The man had been near the staircase the entire time, observing the proceeding. "In fact, I think this is all he'll say until he dies. But, there's something he's not telling me. Something I don't think even Sarah knew about, or else she would have given me a clue."

Heiter glanced over at the man, mouth set in a straight line.

"Perhaps I can convince him."

As soon as the words were said, Abby knew what he was asking. But was he asking, or was it already a premeditated choice?

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"You have another idea of making him talk?" the surgeon asked, eyes set on hers.

She shivered at the look before glancing down. This time, the act nearly made her sway.

"You are hungry and tired. Go upstairs and rest. Let me take care of this."

"But-."

"Abby," he commanded, one hand grabbing on to her shoulder. "By the time you wake up tomorrow morning, he will be able to supply all of the information you desire. Can you honestly walk away from not knowing what it is he is hiding?"

Her gaze refused to ascend, but the words were everything she wanted to hear in that vicious, twisted part of her.

Taking a deep breath, Abby continued her stare for a good two minutes before meeting Heiter's fixated stare.

"I don't want to come down here and see his penis surgically attached to his armpit."

"That is a waste of my talents," he mentioned dryly.

_God damn it, that is not funny!_

But there that demented humor of hers came in to just barely suppress a smile.

"Okay. Just...know when to stop. And make sure he doesn't scream too loud. It'd be bad for the police to make an appearance."

The surgeon released a cold smile.

"Jakob promised the cellar to be soundproof."

Abby pulled away her gaze for fear of caving in. She was willingly condoning one human to torture another. There was simply no easy way to swallow that one.

_I'll get what I came for. As dehumanizing as that sounds, it's the truth._

She risked one last glance at Ivan. The man had been studying them from across the room, most likely defiant about whatever they planned to do.

_If only you knew._

Her eyes offered up a split second apology before her feet ushered her up the stairs.

The firm _click! _of the door seconds later would haunt her dreams for years to come.

* * *

><p><strong>More German to English translations:<strong>

**Mund halten, hure : shut up, whore**

**I really wanted to stress how uncomfortable Abby is with allowing Heiter to torture Ivan. Yes, she's aware that Ivan did the same to her dad and that he's a pain in the ass, but she feels the dehumanizing effects of this decision almost immediately, even before leaving. She wants the answers so badly at the end of the journey, but her conscience wonders how humane her intent to gather it is. Let me know your thoughts in a review! **


	23. Chapter 23

**Thank you for the reviews! I went three whole days without them after the chapter was up and thought perhaps it was really bad. But I did continue writing the next one and here it is! Hope you enjoy as the mystery draws closer and closer to a conclusion. Also, a Xenagogue is a guide or someone who conducts strangers. A Xyster is a surgeon's instrument for scraping bones. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23 - Xenagogue Xyster<strong>

Abby grabbed an apple before bed, but by the time she entered her bedroom, all thoughts of eating ceased. A graceless thump on to the soft mattress was heard before she stumbled off into dreamland.

Unlike the peculiar dream of the lion full of wisdom, this time, the dreams were more of nightmares.

She dreamed of Ivan most often, contained in the cellar.

There was a tiny bell that would ring, indicating it was time to interrogate him. But that meant venturing down the stairs and seeing what horrors lay in the room.

The first time she went down, the man was missing both eyes. The sockets sat like two empty, gaping holes with dried blood smeared around the lower eyelid. She had just been able to keep back her scream.

The second journey down stairs found her taking in the man who appeared like nothing had been altered. Until he attempted to speak.

No tongue.

Instead, a stubble of slithering, thin, blood tissue wiggled at her.

Again, a scream was suppressed, but the terror was not. Like an unbreakable fit of the shivers swarmed over her, polluting each bodily function. Her breaths were ragged and quick. Eyes flinging back and forth beneath her lids like a haywire metronome. And a few times, one arm flung out over the edge of the bed, fingers grasping at something, but never gaining it.

She didn't want to go back down stairs the third time, but she was hardly a lucid dreamer. There was no control she had over her actions. No ability to stop them.

And perhaps a part of her really didn't want to. It knew she deserved to see what happened to the man as a result of her choice.

The third image had her let out an ear piercing scream that made her throat sore. She was still screaming when the door was flung open and the light slammed into her focal point, causing her eyes to instantly water.

"What happened?"

Taking in a few careful breaths, Abby's fingers dug into the covers beside her. Her chest heaved intensely, heart not yet willing to settle down.

"I had-."

Another shake coursed through her, gripping on to her nerves and thoroughly shaking them. She swallowed thickly.

"-nightmare," she gasped out, eyes finally adjusting to the invasion of light through the black room. "Just a nightmare."

Heiter observed her cautiously, not quite stepping into the room, but not ready to sprint either.

"What about?" he ended up asking.

Abby shook her head at first, willing the image to disappear. It was the man in her entryway who was the cause of the image. Of the gruesome experiment he first had in mind all those months ago.

_Maybe he still does. I don't know what I'll find when I come downstairs._

"How's Ivan?"

This got the surgeon's full attention.

"You are worried about the condition of the man who murdered your father? Perhaps being the daughter of a serial killer has influenced your right and wrong."

"Not everyone can handle the guilt of allowing someone to be tortured," she bit back, anger rumbling inside her.

His gaze hardly faltered, but he did tilt his head and cross his arms.

"I once was told a person becomes easier to understand the more you know them. Often, first impressions are repulsively accurate. But you...you, I do not know what to make of."

"This isn't about me," Abby argued. "Is Ivan still in one piece?"

The stare he gave her made Goosebumps immediately surface.

"Physically...he is still in one piece. I was getting a drink when I heard your scream. You have not been asleep for more than four hours."

"I don't know," she mumbled, leaning back, "if I could go back for another four."

Her eyes sprung up to the ceiling, awake and alert. At least to a form of degree.

"Do you wish to join me?"

One hand rubbed at her forehead, ignoring the oddity of the request. The man didn't ask, he demanded.

_If I fall asleep again and see-._

"Vodka sounds really good right now."

APHAPHAPHAPH

They sat at the kitchen table, neither saying a word. Abby took gradual sips out of her glass, enjoying the sting of alcohol and the buzz she felt as a result. Her apple lay devoured and despite nearly a day without food, her stomach wasn't up to digesting anything else.

The silence was comfortable, but Abby feared at any moment that the topic would turn to Ivan.

_He'd have no problem with torturing my dad. Why am I so against this?_

Because she knew right from wrong. And that revenge that drove her dad, seemed to be misplaced inside her.

She took another gulp, closing her eyes as the liquid traveled down like a wildfire.

"There are certain things," Heiter began, hand beneath his chin, "that need to be done. Things not considered moral, but necessary."

"No offense," she muttered, "but that was the Nazi's excuse."

"Yes...but they enjoyed their work. The thought of what I am doing to him, is hardly one you can stand."

"Doesn't that make me worse of a person though? Doing nothing to stop it?"

Heiter's gaze fell down to his cup. For a long moment, he was fixed on it.

"Your father had these moral fights with himself, I am sure," he replied. "But he knew it was worth it if those who could hurt you or his wife, were out of the world. He did not consider himself God, but he did believe he was serving others."

Nodding, Abby found her green gaze falling to the surgeon's in surprise.

"I think he needed a release as well," she admitted. "He probably had the instinct to take people apart far before he started murdering them. But his sense of right and wrong wasn't skewered like a lot of people's are."

They stayed silent for a moment after.

"Were you just trying to make me feel better?" she asked, not quite sure how to make her voice sound.

"Your room does not come soundproof," he answered swiftly.

"Oh," she laughed, "just wanted to shut me up."

He didn't respond.

"You could always kill me."

She didn't know where words came from, but they were out and she could do nothing to retrieve them.

"To shut me up," she continued, glancing up at him.

Again, his brown eyes seemed to have molded into a flame of intensity.

"There are far more effective ways of shutting you up," he responded.

When his eyes fell away, Abby stopped the second sip she was ready to take.

"Such as?"

"Use your imagination," he gruffly suggested.

Her lips twitched up, unsure just exactly what her imagination was trying to display.

"I am," Abby stated. "I'm not quite sure if what I'm seeing is what you were implying."

Heiter slammed his palm down on the table once, the vibrations causing her to raise a brow. But for whatever reason, she didn't react.

He didn't say anything after the action.

"Just felt like abusing Jakob's table? Yeah," she mentioned, fingers rubbing the light brown features, "mahogany can be a real bitch."

"Stop."

His tone wavered at the request.

"Doing what?" she inquired, generally curious.

"Stop being so-."

"Open?" she suggested. "Calm? Trust me, if I could feel the appropriate emotions right now for someone in my position, I would. But this is my quirk. The one oddity I have that many other sensible people don't. You've dealt with it already. What's making it so difficult now?"

He didn't have an answer. In fact, he gulped down the rest of his beverage and stood.

Abby's eyes were glued to him, wanting to desperately say something. His behavior didn't make the slightest of senses. Not that it always did to begin with.

"Oh," she realized, eyes growing wide. "Oh."

Heiter met her stare, eyes narrowed.

"What?" he nearly spat.

"I understand. I understand," she repeated.

They held contact for a full thirty seconds before his eyes fell.

"Good," he said. "Then I will continue my work."

The man left in a hurry, feet swiftly padding against the carpet.

Once the door to the cellar was closed, Abby sighed. One hand reached for the bottle of vodka, the other stayed gripping her knee.

_Do I really want to be intoxicated while interrogating Ivan?_

Just as soon, her hand released the bottle.

Once inflamed nerves now sat like a buoy out on the ocean. Whether it was the alcohol, or the impact of understanding just exactly why her actions suddenly made the surgeon uncomfortable, she didn't know.

But the latter thought did not cease to amaze her.

APHAPHAPHAPH

When Heiter returned upstairs - four hours later, Abby sat on a cozy couch, studying the photo of her dad. Through that tense waiting, she couldn't help but fall back to the six month gap. The gap that he'd remained alive in, only to be killed shortly after.

_What happened, dad? Did someone try to help you? Did Ivan not have his mind made up?_

And slowly, the photo brought on an entirely new meaning.

"No," she mumbled, eyes scanning her dad's posture. "No...that's ridiculous."

But the more her idea pestered her, the more Abby wondered if it could possibly be true.

_Ivan hates me. Good God does he hate me. Maybe it's not just because I'm the daughter of the man he murdered. Maybe it's because-._

"Are you ready?"

Shooting her gaze up, Abby pushed herself up from the couch. Her lower body still ached dully, but it was easily something she could get over.

"I need to ask you something," she began carefully, photo clutched tightly. "And I want you to be very, very specific."

"About how I-."

"No! No...I don't want to know what you did to make him talk. Ever."

She was clear and firm on that, knowing that if the information was made aware, guilt would destroy her mission.

"I just want to know...how he acted once I was gone. Toward you."

A puzzled expression froze itself on his face and if the situation were any less grim, Abby would have laughed.

"How he acted?"

"Yes," she continued, nearing him. "Not during your interrogation of him, but immediately after I left. How did he act?"

"At ease," he answered, still unsure the basis of her question. "Far more willing to barter for his life with me."

Nodding, Abby glanced down at the photo again.

_Maybe its purpose isn't just that of a sentimental portrait. Of a time or place. The uncomfortableness on my dad's face...it's unique. If Ivan is the taker of the photo, maybe it wasn't the place he was attempting to save in his memories. It was the person._

But...WHY?

"What are you thinking?" he finally asked.

Meeting his eyes, Abby's brows flexed into a determined manner.

"I can't quite say. It's a bit...strange."

"Tell me."

So, she did.

And Heiter...well, his answer was a half shrug, half raise of the eyebrows.

"Possible," he determined.

"I mean he-."

She ended it there.

"Go ask him yourself," he gestured.

Taking a deep gulp of air, Abby's head stretched into the proper direction.

"I could be wrong."

"The more I think of it, the more truth I see. Do not talk yourself out of this when you have made extraordinary connections to get here."

Lifting a brow, Abby couldn't suppress her grin.

"Extraordinary? That's called a compliment."

To her surprise, Heiter didn't snap back.

"Yes," he stated. "It is."

And those were the last words either said before descending down the cellar stairs.

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><p><strong>Just want to quickly explain Abby's understanding since I don't feel like going into detail in the story about it. She was being carefree around him - open, just like she'd been before. But...when a person plans on torturing another individual, they have to get into the rigid and emotionless mindset. Abby's infectious attitude was taking that away from Heiter. He was regressing into someone who was making conversation with her. When he snapped himself out of it by slapping the table and telling her to stop, he meant acting the way she did because that would take him out of the mindset he had built for himself. Also, the unspoken thought is that he knows exactly what her imagination conceived about him shutting her up. And Abby understood that, was even awed that she carried the ability to make the man alter his attitude for the time being. So, yeah. That's that strange bit of gravy. Hmmm...I bet you're all wondering what it is Abby figured out about Ivan. Or think she has at least. Maybe one of you readers will pick up on it. And I'll be honest, I never planned on writing it in...but I think it'll give the story that one last punch of "are you serious?". Anyway, let me know your thoughts in a review! <strong>


	24. Chapter 24

**Dark poettess - glad you loved the chapter. I'd like to answer your question by saying yes, Abby did think of Ivan as a centipede in her nightmare - the one that eventually woke her up screaming. Also, when Heiter wanted Abby to shut up, he meant by smothering her with a pillow. But Abby's imagination is vast and of course she thought of kissing. Knowing he'd never do such a thing, she mentioned the image in her head as a joke. Heiter was a bit flustered and angry at the thought so he didn't respond well (as always). Also, Yapness means hunger. Yird means to bury. And before I forget, there are some translations at the very bottom. And on we go! Gah...so, so crazy! Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 24 - Yird Yapness<strong>

Heiter's attire for the entire eight hour session with Ivan had been a pair of blue jeans appearing to have been sewn together from the late 1970's, and a crisp, white t-shirt. Neither bore any mark of what occurred in the cellar, but Abby reasoned that he could have just as easily changed.

"How long did it take before he actually gave in?" she questioned from the bottom step, facing away from their captive. She wasn't ready to see him yet.

Then again, the relief of gaining the proper knowledge made it exciting.

"A surprisingly long while," he admitted, eyes on her. "The man was brothers to a serial killer. I can only assume Luca had instilled some of his will inside him."

The thought of the brother made Abby unbelievably tense. It were his actions that led to her dad's murder.

_Well, technically it was my dad's…but he wouldn't have had to kill the man if he didn't murder innocent people._

This was a pointed thought, one that could easily be taken apart from any angle and still not provide a correct answer. Multiple actions interrupted multiple fates. Could she really pick out one lone perpetrator?

"Just in case," Heiter mentioned, "I will have a gun."

"Okay. Wait...in case what?"

His dark look didn't carry the proper time for analytical thought.

"Do you really think he'll talk to me?" she asked instead.

"He will know the consequences for his disobedience."

Abby's eyes widened, but that was the only physical sign of unease she gave.

Like a prisoner ready to face execution, the blonde finally turned to observe Ivan Kappel.

_He doesn't appear physically harmed._

The man still sat in restraint, but no obvious scarring or bruising showed on his features. He sat rigidly in his seat, as if the thought of sitting otherwise would cause great disapproval.

Abby stepped forth a few steps, eyes glued on his own weary ones.

Although she made the conscious decision to never ask what occurred between the two men, she could tell just in Ivan's eyes that the interrogation had messed with him. Badly.

_What is that? Fear? Trepidation?_

His eyes were wide open, but a terror danced inside his black pupils. Not completely focused on her, Ivan's breaths flew out in a near choke each time his eyes traveled behind her.

_He's terrified of him._

The curiosity sprouted over what occurred, but again, she pushed it away. Now was not the time to carry that sort of guilt.

"Ivan, can I ask you something?"

He fixed his sight on her approaching form immediately, but the only aware act he gave out was a clearing of the throat.

"Fragte die frau sie eine frage," Heiter harshly noted.

"Entschuldigung. Entschuldigung," Ivan muttered, eyes focused on Abby. His voice carried a slight waver in it, but otherwise, he stayed in one piece.

"What do you want to know?" he gave in, not quite able to keep out the bitterness in his tone.

Biting at her lip, Abby thought over how to word her theory.

"Were you happy being married to Sarah?"

She could tell the question visibly shocked him. His eyes lost their fearfulness for a moment and instead, squinted at Abby as if she was a ball of sunshine.

"In what way?" he finally asked.

"Was she someone you could confide in? Someone you loved?"

"We will know if you are lying," Heiter added.

Ivan cringed, but, remained lucid enough to answer.

"Love was not exactly the reason we married. A friendship from early age brought us together. I trust her with most of my secrets. She trusted me. Together, marriage was option both of our parents approved of."

"But you weren't in love with her?"

"No...not sexually."

"How come you never left? Surely you'd met other people who'd caught your attention?"

Ivan frowned in annoyance.

"Only a cruel man would leave a woman suffering from schizophrenia."

Offering a sympathetic nod, Abby retreated a few steps.

So far, her words did not come off accusatory. Unfortunately, that would have to change if she wanted to delve in deeper to the truth.

"Did you ever cheat on Sarah?"

The man's lips slammed shut, but involuntarily, his eyes shot to Heiter.

Whatever he saw made him respond in half a second.

"Very few times."

"Was she ever aware?"

"I don't know."

"Did you cheat on her when you went away on business?"

"Yes."

"Did your brothers know you weren't faithful?"

"Yes, but that hardly is the point. Luca murdered teenage virgins and Jonas was busy trying to distance himself from family. It was hardly a topic to lose sleep over."

Abby stopped her pacing, wondering how to proceed.

"The first time you met my dad...what did you think of him?"

"What did I think of him?" Ivan sputtered in disbelief. "What the hell do you mean? He killed my fucking brother!"

"You didn't answer my question."

Ivan smashed his teeth in between his bottom lip, eyes furious.

"He was a bratty excuse for a human. Stupid, foul, and deserving of death. I was only too glad to hand it to him."

The blonde tilted her head.

"You're lying," she pointed out after a few tense seconds of staring. "My dad was unnaturally patient, excessively intelligent, always dressed impeccably for social events, and was one hell of a survivor. Now...I'm going to ask again. What did you think of my dad when you met him?"

He still seemed unwilling to speak.

"Luca isn't here," she mentioned softly. "Neither is Jonas. They can't hurt you for what you're saying."

A few short breaths were taken before Ivan finally nodded.

"I could not believe it was the man who murdered Luca. He was very intelligent and charming. He knew all about Berlin and when I offered to give him tour, he would tell me histories of the city that I did not even know."

"Did you and Jonas decide immediately to murder him?"

Again, the same hesitancy dashed over his features.

"No. In fact...there was talk of letting him go back to home country. Steffan did not want to blackmail him, Jonas did not want to kill him, and eventually, I did not either. Sarah met him numerous times and found out what we planned on doing to him in the beginning. She talked me out of it."

Keeping her breaths level, Abby brushed at a strand of blue fiber on her jeans.

"Did my dad figure out what you planned on doing to him?"

"Yes," Ivan softly answered. "This made his trust difficult to gain after. And to keep him in line, I kept threat over his head about telling what he did."

"So he stayed?"

"Yes."

"With you?"

"He insisted on hotel room."

"And during these months, who would you say you spent more time with - Sarah or my dad?"

"I will not answer that."

Abby could practically feel the surgeon begin to approach, but she intercepted the man before he could reach Ivan.

"Don't," she whispered, eyes boring into his. "He's doing fine. Right now, he's feeling guilt."

"Guilt?" Heiter said, frowning. "For what?"

Making sure she didn't glance behind, Abby drifted away from their captive.

"He's feeling guilty because he's partly responsible for Sarah's death. That time he didn't spend with her, led to her schizophrenia getting worse. Medicine or proper treatment during that time could have prevented her death."

Heiter visibly didn't care for the explanation, but he didn't argue.

"If I really need you to get him to talk, I'll say something. Just let me give him a chance to explain himself first," she gently commanded.

He didn't quite sigh, but the frustration was evident.

"I will never understand your kindness toward him."

Shrugging, Abby crossed her arms.

"If you want, call it mercy."

With that, she turned back to Ivan's seated form.

"Alright...so we've established that my dad was intelligent," Abby announced, arms behind her. "And reasonably perceptive."

Ivan didn't agree or disagree.

"So after awhile, he'd have figured out you weren't planning on releasing the information you originally planned on blackmailing him with."

"How do you know I never planned to?" he bit back.

"Because to do so would mean hurting him. And other than killing Luca, my dad hadn't done anything to provoke you. In fact, you, Sarah, and Jonas all liked him. Plus, my dad would only have to mention Luca's extracurricular activity and then his act would soon be thought of as a blessing."

The man mumbled something, but didn't respond.

"After my dad figured out you were bluffing, he probably planned on returning back to his family, right?"

"Something like that," he venomously replied.

"I mean...six months in a foreign country! It'd make anyone home sick. I would know. Plus, he's probably anxious as hell that you might give out the information."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't?" Abby maintained. "Then enlighten me."

Ivan looked up at her, eyes hard and vengeful.

"Gregory did not want to leave. He was perfectly fine with individuals who valued his exquisite tastes and charming persona. Why go back to a wife he stopped loving and a sensitive child?"

Abby froze.

"Sensitive?" she repeated despite herself. "He really said that?"

"He hated you and his wife," Ivan assured. "That life was boring and uneventful. Paying bills, going to job he hated. He craved excitement that the city life could provide. What you call "disappearance" was actually his decision to stay."

For a moment, all the air in Abby's lungs thinned. It seemed like she couldn't attain enough oxygen. Without really meaning to, her fingers twitched with a sharp twinge.

_He's lying...isn't he? I was only 10 at the time. I had no proper understanding of his wants and needs. Did that mean he really-?_

She felt a brush past her shoulder and before her brain could comprehend what was happening, high pitched yelling broke out as Heiter blocked her sight of their captive.

"Nein, nein!" Ivan screamed. "Bitte. Nicht weider."

"Wenn man nicht die wahrheit sagen, sie haben keine verwendung für eine zunge," Heiter replied, moving closer.

Picking up only half of his words was frustrating, but the thought of the surgeon physically dismembering the man, nearly made her gag.

"Stop!" she yelled, approaching Heiter.

The request barely registered inside the man.

Reaching out a hand, Abby hesitated about touching him, partly nervous about him turning on her.

When she realized he'd only continue to fall deeper into his merciless mindset, Abby calmly laid her outstretched hand over his shoulder. The muscles were taut as a bow upon the contact.

"Bitte, stoppen," she tried, voice as soft as she could make it.

The impact her touch and soft spoken words had, couldn't have been more overstated.

Quietly, Heiter turned back to her. The edge was lost from his expression and no murderous sneer graced his lips.

Instead, he appeared surprised. Like the act of her touching him was the last thing he ever expected.

They both stared at each other for a moment, drinking in the sudden silence of the room, save for Ivan's ragged breathing.

"Geht es dir gut?"

She didn't know why she felt the need to ask in German. Then again, touching the man was a rather intimate act already.

"Ja," he answered. "But my patience is not. It would be nice for this to end soon."

Her eyes strayed toward Ivan. The man's cheeks were wet from tears he probably wasn't even aware he'd let out. Trailing down, Abby grimaced at the wet spot having formed on the inside of his thighs. In fact, there seemed to have already been a patch of darkness already, covered again.

_Shit. Whatever Heiter did before, this is the second time Ivan's peed himself._

"I can do that," she said slowly, disentangling herself from the troubling image. "But I need Ivan to have a tongue in order for that to happen."

"How unfortunate."

Still, he did move back toward the stairs.

"Okay," she redirected, throwing out her hands. "So if my dad wanted to stay in Berlin, why did you kill him after six months?"

Ivan swallowed thickly, not trusting his voice to speak.

"I've got a theory," she expressed. "But I want to hear your view on the matter."

"I-I lied."

"About what?"

"Gregory wanting to stay here. He missed you very much."

She could tell it killed him to say it, but the information could not afford to be severed at this moment.

"Okay. He wanted to go home. So why didn't you let him? You didn't plan on killing him."

"Because-."

It took a few minutes for the man to collect his breaths, but the tears kept on coming. In fact, they were so abundant Abby felt the urge to grab a tissue and wipe away the wetness gathered.

_Oh Ivan, if only you knew how much like your brother you look right now. _

"Ivan?"

A sob broke through his lips, but no words.

"Don't even think about it," she threatened, one hand signaling the man behind her to stop.

"If you know," Ivan suddenly cried, eyes defiant, "then why don't you say it!"

In that moment, all of his wrinkles disappeared. The yellowness in his eyes dispersed. Crows feet? Somehow blotted out.

Before her sat Ivan as he was upon meeting her dad. She didn't know how, but this man presented to her for just a brief moment, was the epitome of cleverness and wit. Of charm and incredibal beauty. So much more than just a business man.

Taking in a deep breath, Abby brought her hands together. As soon as the young man appeared, the ancient features seeped back into his face.

"Because it's not my story to tell."

The words sunk into Ivan's brain, and gradually, his breathing was maintained. Even his eyes stopped leaking for a quick part of a second. Enough to at least admit exactly what Abby had already assumed.

But she needed to hear it with her own ears.

"I-I," he tried, sucking in a breath. "I was in love with your father."

Gulping, Abby felt a prickliness form inside her dry throat.

"You're...gay?" she said, wanting to make sure.

"It is far more accepted lifestyle here."

She heard Heiter's footsteps stalk forward, but they paused beside her rather than get near the sitting man.

"Before you did whatever you did to him," she observed, talking to the surgeon on her right, "Ivan was more at ease with you. Probably explains why he went without much of a thought, with you into the garage. He trusts men far more than women. It explains his extreme hate toward me."

"I also think," Heiter offered, "it is your heritage. You are the daughter of the man he...loved. What a strange way of showing it."

"Ivan," Abby broke in, "if you loved my dad...why did you kill him?"

The waterworks just as turned back on.

_It's difficult to believe this man survived the cut throat business world._

"Ivan?" she tried again.

"You must be firm," Heiter noted.

"Thank you, Mao."

The man grimaced, remaining tight lipped.

They continued watching Ivan sob and although the wild animal noises that flew from his lips, tugged at her heart strings, Abby found herself unbelievably impatient to move on.

_What the hell is wrong with me? The guy is clearly in a turmoil._

But again, a grave amount of information had just been learned. To suddenly pause just when the end was near made her want to act on Heiter's suggestion.

"You were in love with my father," she reminded once Ivan's tears momentarily subsided. "How'd it happen?"

"Immediately," he choked out.

Abby's eyebrows rose into her hair line. Figuratively, of course.

"He was so different," Ivan continued, seemingly in a faraway place. "Had a bit of insanity to him, had to if he was able to take down Luca. But so vulnerable as well. When I had that power over him-God, I just wanted his love so badly."

The admission shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did. But the pain in which it was said. That's what caused her to pause.

"How did my dad respond?"

Shaking his head mutinously, Ivan spat down at the floor. The white liquid landed only inches from Abby's own naked feet.

"He knew I wanted him. He _knew_."

"And?"

"It took five months for him to say he did not love me."

_The time gap. Ivan spent it trying to get dad to love him._

"And then?"

_God damn it, do I want to know? Do I really?_

"And then..."

He slowed down his breathing for a moment, glassy eyes focused on her tired green ones.

"I asked him to stay," Ivan laughed, nothing warm in the gesture. Tears began descending again. "I begged him. I tell him he will have perfect life. Perfect friends. Perfect lover."

One of Abby's hands started shaking, but she ignored the possessed limb.

"What did he say?"

"He say? Oh...he say his real family is in the States."

And out came the man Abby had first laid her eyes upon. The one at the farmhouse, so eager to sprint away. The one triumphant of the death and destruction he'd caused.

"You couldn't let him leave," she stated, hating the words.

"Of course not," Ivan objected, shaking his head rapidly. "He tell me of wife whose troubles martyr his plans for future. He tell me of daughter too sensitive for life he leads her into. I could not let him go back. I would not."

"You were angry. Betrayed."

_Stop goading him._

Ivan's eyes brightened with a barely concealed giddiness.

"Very much so. I call Jonas, tell him Gregory tried to finish job he started with Luca, on me. Jonas had distanced himself enough to where this was not a matter he investigated too deeply. He met me."

Her body radiated a frying heat, but the tips of her fingers and toes remained frigidly glacial.

"And then?"

Another laugh spilled from the man's throat.

"First, we knock him out. Then, we chain him. Luca had special part of house where he liked to bring his virgins. It was perfect place for torture."

She was ready to stop him, but her brain ignored the command. It _had_ to know.

"Once gagged, real fun began. I had to tell Jonas of the torture Gregory put Luca through. That was the only way he would participate. Oh how we slashed. Over, and over, and over again. Cut beneath each rib, inches deep. Blood run down body like a coat of oil. Jonas insisted on messing his face up. Soon, our fists met every part of Gregory's face. Jaw dislocated. Nose bashed in. Eye permanently sealed, perhaps permanently obliterated."

The breath was sucked in swiftly, but she gritted her teeth and continued listening.

An insistent hand from the man beside her, attempted to reach out, but she grabbed on to the wrist with inhuman strength and simply held it there. The grip only tightened as the story went on.

"After Jonas leave to bathroom...oh, I had own fun."

When Ivan smirked, Abby felt the first stir of revenge lace her veins. The battle began for her resolve.

"I was able to touch what I could not for months!" he exclaimed, his accent becoming sloppier the more excited he got. "Even with blood, your father tasted like cinnamon. I was able to devour it and for once, he could not say no!"

Her eyes slammed shut, portraying the image.

_He was tough. Even during that, he'd have preserved._

"I only let gag out once. The cinnamon was delicious in mouth as well."

Peeking from beneath her eyelashes, Abby tightened both fists.

"But then that fun end when Jonas return. After, we continue slashing and stabbing. You would be amazed at amount of times human can be stabbed and still not bleed to death. But Jonas and I wanted his death to be special. He killed Luca! So, we snap wrists and ankles. No longer he need chains. We make him crawl, beg for life."

It took a second for the blonde to realize her cheeks were wet. A harsh breath was released, but a worse one was inhaled.

"Bones break shortly after he attempt crawl."

"Stop."

The words came out quicker than her brain could bring them back.

"Your father begged for life! Begged."

"Stop."

Her voice didn't change tone, but the emotion behind it sounded like an avalanche just barely being held back.

"I tell him as I cut off finger one by one, how I would like to do same to family. I do it slow too. Nice and easy."

"St-."

But the command couldn't express itself. The hand previously wrapped around Heiter's wrist, released itself and flung straight to her mouth. Hot, short breaths shot into her palm.

"Jonas begin cutting through neck, and I cut toward heart. Why not stab his when he stab mine? Then...oh, it is great. Jonas gets idea, but does not try it out. So, I do it for him. I pull down pants and release-."

Her mind physically blocked out the next words. Unfortunately, the anger only built within that avalanche of emotions.

"-wet from head to toe. Finally, we take pity. He smells horrible and could not possibly live for much longer. I take knife and put it in heart. Dead. We bury underneath floor boards. Let's say this. Luca had more victims than police found."

A silence exploded inside the room after Ivan paused. The shift in power seemed to be held in his restrained hands.

"Did you enjoy story?" he goaded. "Of how the brave man you called your father, really nothing more than a weak man who begged for life."

She didn't respond. Inside, her brain processed the information. It insisted on one emotion to overtake everything. Anger.

And why not? Ivan and his brother had defaced, dehumanized, and tortured her father before killing him. What in the hell gave her the right not to be just as merciless toward him?

A hand wiped at her cheeks, sliding across slippery flesh. To her and the entire room's surprise, a chuckle spilled from her lips.

_Am I finally going mad? After all this time, it was the information of what happened that finally did it?_

Heiter threw her a concealed look of concern, but she ignored it.

_Look at him. He wants death. He wants it badly. He's already felt the proper guilt for killing my dad. And for isolating Sarah. Whatever is left inside, is no longer compassionate or able to be redeemed. It's evil._

"Do I remind you of Gregory?" she ended up asking.

Ivan studied her cautiously, weary all of a sudden.

"Simple question," she continued. "When you and I first saw each other at your farmhouse in Neuruppin. Was I the splitting image of my dad?"

His lack of an answer suited Abby just fine.

"So you planned on killing me?" she surmised. "When I was running after you and you suddenly turned with the gun. When you shot at me, did you imagine it was my dad or did you actually see me?"

"He shot at you?" Heiter interrupted, taking a step forward.

"Just a second," Abby mentioned from the corner of her lips. "Don't do anything yet. I need to figure out how to approach this."

"Kill me," Ivan stated. "Kill me."

"But that would be easy," she reasoned. "In fact, too easy. And you know what's strange? Sometimes, living is far more difficult that dying. Because think of everything that's killing you inside. Every demented action you've taken. Every harmful word you've shouted. Every loved one you pushed away or slaughtered. Allowing all of that to rot within you, I think, is true death. So...you're asking me for death. Actually, I'd go even as far to say as you'd beg me for it. Why? Because you can't stand the pain anymore inside you. This person sitting there...well, I don't think even you recognize him anymore. Luca may have been the one who took pleasure in the kill, but you certainly inherited the lack of a soul. And my dad saw right through it. In fact, he was clever enough to guide me to you. Clever enough to know Steffan would lead to Sarah who'd lead to you. He had it all planned out, even as he took his beating. You said you laughed? Think of the riot he had going inside his head. He signed your death certificate far before you even realized it. He knew his daughter would stumble upon the same pathetic excuse of a man and get such a kick out of it. And that...dear God, that is so fucking hilarious I can barely stand it."

She shook her head once, smile creeping up despite her best job at containing it.

Ivan's lips moved, but nothing came out. In fact, the momentary shift in power he'd held, sprang out of him like a black cat.

"For once," Heiter mentioned, observing her, "your sense of humor does not leave me confused."

"Isn't it funny?" she laughed, meeting his gaze.

"Yes."

And so she continued her enlightened observation of the restrained man.

"What do you wish to do?" the surgeon asked.

Breathing in, Abby tilted her head. One finger tapped insistently on the corner of her elbow.

"The only thing I can do," she realized. "The only thing that will be far worse than death."

He pulled out his gun from the back of his jeans, but Abby didn't say anything. In fact, she stayed mute for a few minutes.

When his puzzled expression finally met her green eyes, she smiled.

"We're going to let him go home and live with himself."

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><p><strong>Fragte die frau sie eine frage : the woman asked you a question<strong>

**Entschuldigung : sorry**

**Nein : no**

**Bitte : please**

**Nicht weider : not again.**

**Wenn man nicht die wahrheit sagen, sie haben keine verwendung für eine zunge : if you can't speak the truth, you have no use for a tongue.**

**Bitte, stoppen : please, stop.**

**Geht es dir gut : Are you alright?**

**Ja : yes**

**Also, when Abby called Heiter, Mao, she was referring to Mao Zedong - the communist leader who was responsible for millions of deaths in China due to his policies and oppression ranging around 49'-76'. Oh...and Dark poetess - your long shot was absolutely correct! I was hoping someone would get it and I'm glad you took a shot at it. Hopefully you guys don't think it's too out there. But then again, love makes you do strange, horrible things some times. Gregory Post was the unfortunate recipient of an unwanted love from a man whose own brother's actions helped mold him into a cold blooded killer. Anyway, hope you enjoyed that! I can't believe she's letting him go! Or maybe I can. It's all in my head, damn it! Almost done! Let me know your thoughts in a review!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you for reviewing! Always thankful. Honestly, those reviews have gotten me as far as they have today. So really, just thank you! My gratitude can not express enough how much they have meant. Two translations at the very bottom. Other than that, Zoetic means living or vital and Zetetic is a search or investigation. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 25 - Zoetic Zetetic <strong>

"NO."

The word met Abby's ears from both males. Two entirely different reasons fueled the requests, but she already made up her mind.

"You said I could do whatever I wanted with him," she began, advancing on the surgeon. "I want to let him go. He's suffering enough and left alone with himself, he'll continue to deteriorate until there's nothing left."

"It was my belief that you planned to kill him eventually," Heiter hissed back. "Think of everything we've done to find him."

"I've thought it over," she nodded solemnly. "Actually, it didn't take until I discovered the truth for this decision to become clear. In this case, acting out on revenge also declares Ivan the winner. A release for him. He hates himself already. Just think of the turbulent life that'll consume him."

"Töte mich!" Ivan cried.

"Maul halten!" Heiter spat back, ignoring the man's request. "You cannot let him go. He will tell the police-."

"What? That two people kidnapped him? All we have to do is give them Luca's address and they'll find more than just my dad underneath those floor boards. It'd be simple to mention that Ivan participated in the murder spree as well. He has nothing against us, lest he wishes for us to reveal the truth. And considering he attempted to flee to Poland, I really don't think he wants any more to do with this country."

Heiter's frustration was evident. The grip he held on to the gun, tightened to the point where Abby was slightly concerned it'd accidentally go off.

"He is filth," he tried.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," she slowly protested. "Actually, every nerve in my body is urging me to rip that gun out of your hand and finish this. But I came here to gain closure. To figure out what happened to my dad. I did just that. Anything else is outside my realm of control."

"But letting your father's murderer go is not closure!" he insisted.

"Try to think of it this way. One of Jonas's children grows up and plans to investigate his murder. What he finds-."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ivan harshly interjected. "Murdered? You, bitch, murdered my brother?"

"I killed your brother," Heiter answered back, eyes aimed on their captive. "And I enjoyed every minute of it."

Ivan straightened suddenly in his seat, eyes watering.

Out of all the men Abby had ever known, Ivan had the greatest cycle of tear production.

"You-!"

He cut himself off by attempting to break through the bonds. Unfortunately, the ropes dug in and had cut off a fair amount of circulation. This meant less of a blood flow and eventual invalid muscle use.

All he ended up doing was rocking back and forth a bit in the chair. Other than that, murder was left to glisten in his cold eyes.

When he was done, Abby continued.

"But this offspring of Jonas Kappel, finds you and inquires as to why you murdered her dad. By some divine miracle, you tell her. If guilt were eating away with you, you'd welcome death in a heart beat. You'd know you were deserving of it. But think if she kept you alive, constantly pondering over what you'd done. Letting your conscious eat away everything that makes you alive. Now that is real torture."

"You forget that I lack an ability to feel guilt."

"You felt guilty when I went through that phase of constant fainting. You knew you were the cause of it."

"That was hardly guilt!" he argued, having the audacity to cross his arms.

One corner of Abby's lip twitched up.

"Well...whatever it was, it led you to make a decision to help me. Anyway, Ivan's going to go through the rest of his life, understanding that it were his actions alone which led to the crappy existence he lives in now. That's kind of brilliant."

"That is sloppy and stupid."

"That is meticulous and ingenious."

"Abby-."

"I get it. I do. We chased this bastard down. Met countless dead ends, watched our links dissolve before our eyes. I let you have free reign of his mental condition for eight hours. But, I feel like this is the right decision."

"It is a clumsy and foolish decision."

"I've already heard your take on the matter."

"And yet you still insist on following your logic. He is dangerous. Or perhaps you have forgotten what he has done to your father."

She froze for a second, eyes narrowing.

"Heiter," she stated firmly, "I will never forget what he did. If you could see the images running through my head right now, it'd make you shiver. But...I want him to go back into the world and live with the life he created for himself."

"Perhaps you are wrong! He is actually happy at this moment. Once you let him go, he will spend money on his lavish lifestyle. Flee the country and start a new life."

"Two problems. Number one, I'm pretty sure if left alone in a room with you for eight hours, he's feeling anything but happiness. In fact, I'm guessing his psyche is permanently scarred thanks to you. Number two, he's bankrupt. Or at least going that way. The cash you found on him? Enough to hop from hotel to hotel for awhile. The rest of his money is now being stashed away somewhere in a Frankfurt bank. Only it's not his money anymore. So I assure you, his life will not carry the lavish requirements it once did."

Obviously unhappy, Heiter threw another glare at Ivan's struggling, red-faced form.

"I have watched you make decisions," he started. "Decisions I may not have supported in the beginning, but found myself thankful I let you continue. Your ability to work around human emotions is beautiful. Your insight and ability to analyze objects could easily earn you a great career in the justice department. Despite all this, you decide to keep this man alive. I do not understand this."

"I've tried explaining it as best as I could. I don't know what else to say."

There was an uncomfortable pause between the two, and Abby briefly wondered how smart of a decision this was.

_Ivan did atrocious things to my dad. That warrants some sort of torture. But I don't think I could carry it out, especially when he's so willing to die. _

"Have something to eat first and think it over," he suggested, eyes falling back to her.

"It's not going to change my mind."

"At least eat something," he ordered.

"Okay...but there's no way in hell you're staying down here with him."

"Fine."

With an uneasy peace, the two turned on their angry captive and ventured toward the stairs.

"Get back here!" Ivan screamed, voice reaching an unbelievably high pitch. "Tell me what the hell you did to Jonas!"

The two simultaneously ignored the request and ascended back upstairs.

APHAPHAPHAPH

"Abby."

Sighing, the blonde pushed away her grilled chicken. It was only half eaten, even though the taste was sensational. Jakob had a variety of spices to choose from and cooking for herself again made Abby far more at ease.

Unfortunately, her stomach still didn't feel like ingesting large quantities of food.

"I haven't changed my mind," she informed.

They'd been upstairs for an hour, both in a silent deliberation. She was quite aware of his need to make her see that a dead Ivan was the ultimate form of closure. But this couldn't displace her own sense of reason.

"I understand this."

Surprised, Abby glanced up to find Heiter staring at her. His plate was clean and she was sure he'd went through five glasses of water already.

"I want to know what time you are leaving."

"Oh," she said, momentarily forgetting about everything that was packed in her bedroom. "I guess I'll call Jakob after Ivan leaves. See if my visa has been renewed. If not, there's the US embassy in Berlin. If anything, I'll get deported back to my country because of an illegal residential stay from an expired passport. But however I get home doesn't bother me."

Heiter nodded slowly, processing in the information.

"Your mother is dead."

"Yep."

"As is your father."

"That too."

That realization still swam around inside, but she understood that the real heart ache would most likely hit when she returned. So, she tried not thinking about the final days of her dad too much. Instead, she marveled at his ability to have set up an intricate web of clues.

"You have no boyfriend."

Smiling, she shrugged.

"Not that I'm aware of. You never know, though. Maybe in a month or two, I'll come back and visit Klaus."

"You have no friends."

"Some," she argued lightly. "I guess we kind of broke apart after I dropped out of college. Maybe we'll reconnect."

"So you are only going back for the possibility of starting a new life?"

"Isn't that enough?"

Her eyes were glued to the kitchen table, attempting to hold back tears. The longing to go home was ferocious and unwavering.

She was tired.

So, so tired of her ordeal. Of seeing people die without any ability to stop their deaths. Of constantly chasing after something out of reach.

Tired, tired, tired.

"Who wouldn't want to walk away from this?" she asked softly.

Understanding reflected back at her when she glanced up, and for a moment, Abby realized the man sitting across from her would be thrust back into his old life. Of isolation and murderous intentions. Perhaps even allowing his mad idea to guide him again.

_I can't do anything about it. I really, really can't. _

The longer she stared, the less aware she became of her surroundings.

_I could tell someone. An authority figure about what Heiter planned on doing. I know it'd eat me up if I let this man continue on with his experiment on some other unfortunate victim._

But this thought was met with firm resistance.

_The least I should do is _**not**_ say anything. Think of everything he's done for me. He _**is **_the reason I am getting closure._

There was no clear answer to her dilemma. Staying mute could put future people at risk of going through everything she and her companions had.

_And that was when his victims had gotten away. Imagine if he completed his experiment._

Alerting someone made her feel guilty and deceitful. Like the trust they'd built with each other had been doomed from the start. And the parts of himself he'd put on display for her, parts she was sure had been hidden from the world for a long time, seemed sincere and sparked a potential change inside the man. Like there was really someone with a beating heart beneath the cold, inhuman exterior.

_That's selfish of me. To not say anything and endanger someone's life just so I don't feel guilty. Think how much guilt there would be if he did get away with his cruel experiment. Three ruined lives right there._

"You are thinking of turning me in."

Widening her eyes, Abby shook off her brain's protests of answering.

"Yes," she admitted. "I am."

"It is a struggle?"

"More than you're aware of. I've got to know, though. When you first let me have all of that freedom inside your house, did you think in the back of your mind that I'd really stay quiet?"

Scratching at his chin, Heiter set his head upon his open palm.

"Honestly, I am more surprised you are thinking it over. I would have thought the answer to be clear."

"I did too," she murmured stubbornly. "You are dangerous. If I say nothing, I can only think of the horrors I'm putting future lives into."

"Always thinking of others," he mused with a shake of the head.

"This isn't about me," she determined. "My ordeal, while excruciating and terrifying, has passed. I've found new people to haunt my dreams. New words to replace my veins with ice. But you're still the same, I think. Are you?"

"It would appear so."

"And you still want to perform unethical experiments on innocent people?"

He didn't respond immediately. In fact, his eyes journeyed down to the same table he'd slapped.

"The past few months," he finally said, "have forced me to resort my intentions."

"Really?" she asked in concealed amazement.

"You are not the only who has had revelations."

The bitterness couldn't quite edge out of his comment in time, but Abby's awe didn't disappear. Could it be possible that his interaction with people made him realize humans weren't perishable?

"There were some good times," she admitted after a silent second. "Even in the midst of the turmoil."

"Such as?"

Abby cleared her throat, index finger running across the table. She closed her eyes, parted her lips, and let loose an uneven voice.

"I know your eyes in the morning sun. I feel you touching in the pouring rain-."

"Please, stop."

She edged open one eye and nearly followed his command, if he hadn't been attempting to contain his smile.

"-and the moment that you wonder far from ME, I wanna feel you in my arms again. And you come to me in a summer breeze, keep me warm in your love and softly leave. And it's me you need to show. How deep is your love," she sang brightly, notes stumbling all around the place.

_I should have just tortured Ivan with my singing voice._

When both eyes sprang open, Abby had to cover her mouth or else a demented laugh would spill out.

"What band sings that song again?" he asked.

Using her palm like an oxygen tank, Abby said, "Bee Gees."

"Let us keep it that way."

The laugh blasted out like a jack-in-a-box, forcing her hand away and her eyes to close back up. Her entire face turned a tomato red and she had to keep her legs crossed or else she'd pee her pants.

"I don't know how many times I've said it," she mentioned, neutralizing her laughter, "but you are a bastard."

"And I do not know why you find this amusing."

"Because you make me laugh. The stern surgeon with little empathy for others, making a joke. Something strange inside me likes that."

Her smile didn't waver even when his expression turned solemn.

"Will you be telling others of what I had almost accomplished?"

The thought sobered her. But...she did have the answer.

"No. I know I could come to regret this decision, but a part of me trusts your supposed revelation."

"That is good."

He said this with a relief, but Abby noted the way his eyes stayed on her a second longer than normal.

"Trust me like I've trusted you," she offered, holding out a hand.

For a moment, she was sure he'd simply let it hang there for the rest of eternity.

"It won't bite," Abby promised.

Finally, he brought his pale arm on to the table and grasped her hand. The grip was tight, but assertive.

They shook once before releasing.

"Alright...now we've only got one last business to take care of," she announced.

* * *

><p><strong>Töte mich! : Kill me!<strong>

**Maul halten : Shut up!**

**Lol, I've actually got one more chapter left to put up. Some of you thought this was the end, but if you look up, this is Chapter 25. The English alphabet has 26 letters. But now you're thinking to yourself...wait...we're in the letter Z. What the hell? Well...I actually skipped a letter and that letter will be the title of the last chapter. Now you're all probably going to go scanning through the story, trying to figure out which letter I skipped. Maybe some of you realized it, but didn't mention anything. It was intentional, don't worry. Oh, and StrangeKindofMirror, as I was writing the last chapter, I made the exact same connection you had. Like I mentioned previously, making Ivan in love with Abby's father was completely a last minute choice. So as I was writing how in love Ivan was with Gregory, I thought of Gregory's daughter - Abby, and her situation with Heiter. I'm not saying whether anything is there or not, but it is most definitely an interesting concept of something so irresistible within the father-daughter that others become enthralled against their will toward the pair of them. Anywho, let me know your thoughts in a review!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Oh my gosh! Last chapter! Just want to say thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed. You will never know, EVER how grateful I am for them. So I'll leave you with this thought. If you had never reviewed, this entire story would never have been completed. I hope you feel absolutely wonderful about yourself and I want to thank you for continuously reading and continuously reviewing. These have been by far some of the best reviews, and some of the kindest readers I've ever gotten on this site. Whew...enough with the gushy talk. I've got a long chapter for you all and I needed a good few days to work on it. The ending is EXACTLY what I first decided on when I wrote the summary, the rest was just finding events to fill the eventual climax. So, I'm happy with it, but not everyone may be. Who knows? A lot of things happen this chapter though! I better shut up or else you'll never get to it. Please, as always, enjoy! **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 26 - Syndromia<strong>

"You are really as stupid as you look?" Ivan questioned, eyes rigid as Abby sliced through the ropes binding him to the chair.

"Very easily, I can make this your burial ground," Heiter threatened from behind her.

But the words were empty and Abby continued slicing through the ropes as if she hadn't heard either man.

The knife she used was a harmless kitchen utensil, not particularly sharp or large. Still, it did its job. Her slices were deliberately slow, making sure Ivan didn't have to stumble out of the ropes once free.

"You will never see me again after this," Ivan vowed, feeling the blood flow back into his restrained limbs. "I will continue living the rest of my life with the knowledge of what I accomplished. Killing your filthy father!"

Heiter glanced over at the bent woman, but her eyes remained focused on Ivan's feet, knife shredding through the rope keeping them immobile.

"Perhaps while I sit here, I will recount story of Gregory's final days," the man declared proudly.

Within a second, the tip of Abby's knife was directed over Ivan's heart. It happened so quickly that the bound man hardly felt the breaking of skin.

"Just remember why he chose my mother and I over you," she said, voice neutral.

And just like that, his cockiness disappeared.

With a lingering stare, Abby brought the knife back and continued working on his legs.

A great abundance of doubt raced through her mind during this time, but she forced it all out. Her decision called for a different type of torture. A torture she condoned because Ivan had led himself to this point in his life.

When able to continue living in an existence of self hate, the individual slowly loses their own sense of self. This sort of tearing away of the soul was far more excruciating than anything she could ever think of doing to Ivan.

Thus, the decision appeared impeccable.

Finally, it came to where the last strand of rope sat poised in Abby's hand. Hesitation led her movements from then on.

"There is still time for me to kill him," Heiter mentioned.

She didn't answer. Instead, her gaze traveled upward to meet Ivan's.

"You're not sorry for taking him away from me. Taking away the only man I've ever loved and the only man you've ever loved. But I do want to know this. Was life better for you when he was gone?"

Ivan's glare receded and momentarily, his anger was not so brash. He opened his mouth once, ready to answer, but decided against it.

Still, the somber look did not disappear.

"It wasn't better for me either," she answered. "My mom slowly killed herself when he didn't return home. I had to watch that. Day by day, unsure of how to stop her. Parentless before the age of 11, imagine that! Some good did come of it though. The reliance and confidence I have in myself is really quite amazing. I'm independent, and thanks to my dad, able to read the unspoken words on strangers faces. My mom also taught me a few things about medicine which actually helped me save the lives of three people. What about you? What good came to you from my dad's death?"

He remained stubbornly silent, so Abby responded for him.

"By the looks of it, you probably felt the happiness for half a day. Then, you woke up one morning and realized the person you were in love with, would never be there again. No longer could you attempt to make them love you. No longer would you see their smiling face. No longer would you be able to converse with them. They were gone. Just like that. A lifetime of happiness obliterated just for a few hours of pleasure. Pleasure you won't get back or feel ever again."

"Shut up."

"Okay. But I want you to think about that very carefully."

And with a last minute glance, Abby cut away the remaining piece of rope.

She stood up, observing the man carefully. Behind her, Heiter had revealed his gun just in case.

"Thank you for telling me what happened," she ended up expressing. "Even if you were the low life responsible, at least I know."

Ivan only clutched on to the wooden handles of the chair, head hanging down. She couldn't confirm what it was he was staring at, but she did know enough to take another step back and allow the man room.

A blanket of heavy silence covered the cellar and left the slightest discomfort rumbling in Abby's stomach.

_Heiter's ready to kill him. All I have to do say is say-No!_

It must have been a full three minutes before Ivan lifted his head.

After this, Abby turned her back on him. She didn't need to see his face anymore. A part of her was fearful that the person staring back at her would only provoke her into action.

Her eyes moved to the cellar stairway instead, wondering already about what going home was going to be like.

_I cleaned the entire place after mom's death so everything should be emptied out, ready for a redecoration. Of course I'll still keep it like she had it, just with a few minor alterations. It's too homey of a place to redo completely. And the picture of dad...it'll go right next to the picture of mom. The one of her sitting alone at the kitchen table, looking down with one of her rare smiles, over a birthday cake. That cake took the whole fucking day to make, but it was worth it to see that look on her face. Last year before she overdosed._

So preoccupied with this memory, Abby didn't realize what had transpired behind her right away.

While she'd pondered over her mother, Ivan had let out a piercing scream and sprinted blindly out of his chair. Like a horsepowered, wind up toy.

With a hunter's aggression, he fully intended to attack her from behind and brutalize her as awfully as he could, if not for Heiter.

The sudden blast, followed by a deafening echo of the gun releasing one lone bullet, displaced any thoughts stumbling around in the room.

After the echo died, Abby realized her entire spine had stiffened and for a moment, she stood petrified. Eyes wide, lips parted, breaths just barely flowing out.

Seconds later, she lifted an arm, just to see the back of it sprayed with scarlet blood.

"Shit," she mumbled, the gun blast still vibrating voluminously inside her ear drums.

Slowly, her gaze drifted over to Heiter's form.

One hand levitated before him, gun clutched tightly and barrel just about losing its smoke.

He met her eyes with a blank stare.

Hesitating, Abby continued turning, fully aware of the sudden wet patch through her back. She guessed the t-shirt was ruined forever.

Ivan laid spread out on the floor, blood quickly gushing out of the bullet hole in his chest, seeping into the brown carpet. Both hands were spread in a falling motion and from her height, she realized death had taken him while his eyes were still open.

"He was ready to attack you," Heiter defended before she could get out a word.

Abby stared at the body for two whole minutes, memorizing the small details. Cartoonish, wide eyes. Mouth parted in a fit of rage. Fingers set in a sort of clawing motion, surely intended for her.

Then, she smiled.

"You are not angry?" the surgeon questioned, taking a few careful steps toward her. He'd carefully noted the exchange of emotions on her face, but did not expect happiness to be one of them.

Her eyes traveled up to meet his and there was an inaudible knowing playing out on her features.

"No," she answered, "I'm not."

Heiter's forehead scrunched in confusion. Quickly, he scanned the dead body, then the woman standing before it, still wearing a content grin.

Abby could literally visualize his brain attempting to make sense of everything at light speed.

"You baited him," he finally determined, eyes widening. "You said the right words to make him react once he was free."

She tilted her head, but the green in her eyes spoke for her.

Once she saw he wasn't going to continue, the blonde sighed, smile falling.

"I was hoping you'd pull the trigger."

The shock couldn't quite scurry out of Heiter's face fast enough.

"But you-."

"Do you really think I was going to let the bastard keep living in this world? Never mind killing my dad for a minute. He murdered Steffan and if left on his own, would do the same to who knows how many people."

"So-."

"One of those last minute decisions in my head. I had to make it appear like I was going to let him go. Make him inhale that hope that he might actually survive, because you are right. Despite the guilt and hate inside him, he would have lived long enough to forget the incident. Not completely, but comfortably."

"Then why-."

"I couldn't do it myself," she admitted sadly. "The thought of killing him still tied to the chair, made me uneasy. I mean he didn't even have a fighting chance, restrained. And I'd never ask you to do such a daunting task. Kill someone who hadn't physically provoked you. That's a bit more inhumanity then I'd like to see."

The man still couldn't wipe away the sudden turn of events.

"You had no guarantee that I would shoot him."

Biting at her lip, Abby shrugged, studying her shoes.

"I trusted you. That was enough guarantee."

At his heavy stare, she glanced up.

"Are you alright with that?"

"I wish you would have told me."

The grin returned.

"I don't know if I could have been convincing enough if you knew. Besides, I genuinely wanted to see what Ivan would do. Maybe he would have left. I didn't have a plan for that."

"There was little doubt he would attack."

"Yes."

"Hmm," the man mused, finally displacing his surprise, "I did not think you capable of such a trick."

"I guess he just got to me," Abby muttered. "And I'm sure the guilt will come. But you were right once again. _This _is closure."

Nodding to himself, Heiter glanced down at his gun, then at the body.

"Should have thought about the stains in the carpet," she observed, thinking of Jakob. "Nothing says thank you for your hospitality like a dead body in the cellar."

"He has the tools to rid the carpet easily."

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't tidy up the place."

They shared one last look with each other before approaching Ivan Kappel's dead body.

APHAPHAPHAPH

Two hours later found the duo scanning over the newly cleansed carpet.

Abby was sure that deep within the fiber strands, they'd missed a few red specs. But otherwise, the area appeared just as even as the rest of the room. Of course it helped having the carpet a dark color as well.

They'd first moved Ivan's body onto a separate white bed sheet. Abby had cleaned the wound so no more blood would flow out and seep through the sheet. The body still lay in the cellar, upon a sturdy, ancient dining table.

Heiter only reaffirmed that Jakob would take care of the problem once she'd voiced her concern.

Next, they'd grabbed a six pack of paper towels, and filled a bucket with cold water.

"Dish washing soap would work best," she had mumbled, observing the five foot by six, circular splatter. "If not that, then Bleach."

So, they set to work.

As Abby dabbed at the blood, she did think of the consequences of her actions.

_I purposely provoked a man to his death._

But her mind only worded it one way.

It was the lesser of two evils.

And Ivan's death didn't mean she was a cold blooded killer. At least that's what she tried to reason.

_I wanted him dead not just because of what he'd done, but what he might do if he had gotten away._

Heiter hadn't commented anymore about her elaborate scheme, but he seemed to have held nothing against her. In fact, there was a brief flash of triumph upon his face right before they'd covered the dead man's body.

Still, even as she worked at cleaning away the evidence of what she'd done, there was unease resting inside her. Whether it was from the potential guilt she knew would come for her later, or something else, she didn't know.

Nonetheless, it sat there like a ten ton stone, stubbornly waiting to be removed.

"Abby."

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, the blonde stepped back from the newly washed carpet and met the surgeon's eyes.

"Yes?"

"Do you want to know what I did to him?"

All of a sudden, her pulse began thumping like a basketball, directly in tune with the steady increase of her heart rate. Vaguely, the echo of the gunshot resonated through her head. She was sure the slight buzz would continue to echo for the next few weeks.

"There is no guilt to feel anymore," he offered. "He is dead."

"Why do you want to tell me?"

"Because you still appear unsatisfied."

Far more unnerved at the simple surveillance, Abby's eyes found the body wrapped tightly in white sheets, across the room.

_Is that the source of my unease? Or will that only make my unease greater?_

"What the hell," she shrugged. "Just let me get a new t-shirt on first."

APHAPHAPHAPH

Inside the kitchen, Abby sat at her usual place while Heiter stood across from her. If she'd have known any better, he seemed more nervous than she was.

"Removal of certain body parts are an incredible enforcer of obedience," Heiter began, hands behind him. He still wore his white t-shirt and blue jeans, but this didn't take away from the superior stance he had settled into.

"Did you?" she asked.

"No. However, he did not believe me at first. Only when I dug the knife into his groin, did he finally begin to understand what was to happen. But, his voice still remained defiant. The man would not shut up for two seconds, even when he was frightened. So, it came as no surprise that I grabbed on to his tongue and pushed the blade into it."

Abby forced back a twitch, imagining the scene.

"He stopped talking so often after then."

"So...if you didn't physically harm him, what made him so ready to tell me everything?"

"I did not threaten to kill him. Instead, I told him of my profession."

Understanding the knowing look in his eye, Abby quickly glanced away.

"You were going to...I mean, you thought about-."

"I even explained how close I came. His horror was very similar to yours when I first captured you. But unlike you, the idea could not disappear easily. As I told him of how I would perform on him, he released his bladder. And once that fear was instilled, I could not stop myself. There were some very dark ideas coming out of my mouth. Ideas that even I am not comfortable with, but at one time, am sure have crossed my mind."

Despite herself, Abby had to ask.

"No," Heiter argued. "I will not repeat them."

"But they terrified Ivan?"

"Yes. As the interrogation carried on, I came to find out what kind of man he was. Very vain and could not bear the idea of disfigurement or physical pain. At one point, he attempted to rebel against me. Move in his chair and scream."

"What did you do?" she said, sickeningly engrossed.

"I tore out a great chunk of his hair in the back. You did not see it, of course."

Thinking of her own hair, she thought of it being viciously yanked out all the way from the roots inside her skull. This made her blanch and involuntarily reach for the back of her scalp.

"When he cried, something I had hoped for, I brought out tape."

"Tape? What for?"

A sly grin appeared on his features, but at her fixed stare, he dropped it.

"I put the tape over his mouth. This restricted the air flow and sent his body into a panic. Afterward, I pinched his nostrils shut. I told him for every time I see another tear, I will add on another second of holding his nostrils shut."

"And?"

"He passed out after the tears could not stop, but not before nearly suffocating on his own spit."

"And this is when you went upstairs for a drink," she connected.

"Yes. By this point, he was still not completely compliant. And I understood your discomfort about leaving physical scars. So, I had to search my imagination for more ideas."

Abby momentarily thought to ask Heiter to stop. That further explanation would sicken her to her stomach.

But, the fascination had built up to an unbelievable peak. And she knew the man wouldn't tell her if he didn't think she could handle it.

Reluctantly, she kept her ears open.

"He had been deprived of sleep for a full day, perhaps more. He was awake by the time I came back down, but each time he closed his eyes, I pressed the tip of my knife underneath a finger nail and slowly lifted up."

Her eyes widened, fingers twitching at the words.

"I had brought down with me some water, but I did not give it to him. His need for thirst was obvious and I made a great deal of informing him he would not get the water if he did not answer the questions. With the threat of physical repercussion, sleep depravation, starvation, and solitary confinement, he began to slowly unravel. Of course I was not exactly civil toward him. Every threat imaginable, I voiced toward him. So often and so commonly that he began to believe I would actually carry them out. Finally, I offered him a sip of water. He lapped at it as if he was a dog, so I held it back and practiced obedience. I would not give him water if he did not repeat certain things."

"You humiliated him," she finished.

"The way he humiliated your father," he noted, the slightest hint of defensiveness in his tone.

This quieted her.

"I almost wish you would have been there. The transgression from mouthy, elusive man to bumbling, submissive boy was...incredible."

For a moment, she wished she was too.

"What finally broke him?" she coughed, throat suddenly parched.

"More threats."

"Oh...how were they different than the ones you'd originally told?"

"I had every intention of carrying these out, and he knew this."

"So...were they something like 'tell us what you know or I'll cut off your balls'?"

"Make sure not a single detail is misplaced or I will snap the tendons in your achilles," he repeated without a bat of the eyelash.

She blinked.

"Or more importantly, make sure Abby gets what she came for or you will no longer have teeth to run your tongue over. His mouth was a sensitive subject, I think. He prided it very much."

"You directly involved me as part of the threat?"

"Only to make his instructions clear. After I was done, he was completely at your disposal."

Without a word, Abby shifted through the eight hour journey with Heiter. Only this time, she was in Ivan's position.

_No wonder he was so fearful. That's not even a strong enough word for it. No sleep, and then your nails being torn off if you tried. Constant fear of a knife being used to slice off your tongue or other body parts. No food or water. Being left alone for hours, then suddenly in the presence of a man who explains in great detail, what he plans on doing to you. The humiliation of begging for water, then repeating whatever it is Heiter wants. Pissing yourself. Crying. The trauma can't be overstated. And that was when he refrained from incorporating medical tools._

"I don't know what to say," she finally proclaimed.

"I am to guess a thank you would be pushing it."

"Right off a cliff. But...we needed this. And despite my repulsion, I still can't believe you accomplished what you did in eight hours."

And only after his admission did Abby finally admit the unease she had felt being lodged within her stomach, vanished.

_Maybe the images of my dad attempting to crawl with broken wrists and ankles while Ivan pisses on him, is canceled out with what Heiter did. And God knows I could have easily ordered him to use the knife._

"I'm really at a loss. So...consider my bewilderment as a thank you...I think."

A smile briefly flung itself across his features.

Then, for the first time since Abby first stepped into the country, she realized with incredible clarity - it _was_ over!

Every grueling, challenging, harming, mentally stressful, event was done. A clean, safe home awaited her back in the States. A new life. A new sense of understanding the world.

And just these thoughts alone nearly made black spots appear before her eyes.

"It's over," she announced softly, her grin refusing to be contained. "It's finally over."

Somewhat in a daze, she lifted herself up. In the back of her mind, a voice commanded her to attain freedom at all costs. Which meant phoning Jakob to see if her traveler's visa was ready.

But midway through venturing to the kitchen phone, she switched directions to her bedroom.

_Maybe I should get my things first. He might be in the area._

The relief continued to course through her like an electric current, forcing her body into a state of relaxation for her own benefit. Because anything else would surely cause another fainting spell.

Abby paused in both steps just before the kitchen parted way into the hallway. The silence from her companion, while not uncommon, seemed odd all of a sudden.

_What else can I say? He planned on performing on me as if I was hardly a living being, then killing me, and then decided on keeping me captive for two months. But then there's the side that I caught a glimpse of and couldn't quite believe existed. The time he put into helping me and of course, pulling the trigger at the time I needed him to most. Those are things I can't leave unsaid._

So, Abby turned around, intent on saying at least **something**_._

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight she met.

Heiter stood not even a full fifteen feet away, gun pointed directly at her. Not only did she not see it coming, but she'd hardly heard him prepare himself.

_That's what I get for constantly thinking._

His face was completely unreadable and eerily reminiscent of when they'd first met. Or more specifically, when she had stared at him, staring at her, through the window of his home on that chill, autumn night so many nights ago.

She made no qualms on trying to hide the disbelief shining on her face.

"After all this," Abby began, voice far more level than her emotions were, "you're going to kill me. Granted, I am a loose end. But after everything I've been through, you're going to put a bullet in _my_ body."

He didn't answer.

"How long had you been planning on doing this?" she nearly sputtered, swallowing back her panic.

Their positions were suddenly regressed back to captor and captive in seconds. But, she made an urgent note to keep playing up their current positions as equals. Inequality made death a simpler option.

When he continued to stay silent, Abby sighed.

_I can't believe it.  
><em>  
>There was a bitter pang of embarrassment at not having picked up on this elusive emotion, rocketing through her bones.<p>

_How could I have? The only guy better at hiding his emotions than him is my dad, and I hardly knew him. Maybe I'll be seeing him sooner than I realize._

This was further supported when Heiter took another calculative step toward her. The safety was clearly off and his finger stayed frighteningly close to the trigger.

Then, he cleared his throat. As if his next words were unrehearsed.

"I am not going to kill you."

Her confusion was immediate, but she uttered not a single word, no matter how enormous her curiosity was.

"The last thing I want to do," Heiter explained, gun still aimed directly at her, "is kill you."

Blinking, Abby responded, "You have a strange way of showing it."

"That is to be expected."

"Okay...then why exactly are you pointing your gun at me?"

She swore that all of the traffic, and the birds, and the generator, and all other sound, completely vanished after the question was asked. All that was left were the two beings inside the kitchen.

"Because if I don't, you will leave."

Her body simultaneously fought back a shiver and a gulp.

"I thought you were insistent about me leaving," she reminded.

"I thought I was too. But perhaps even then, I was denying my fondness of you."

"Fondness? I'm afraid I don't follow."

But the look he threw her made her realize he'd been thinking over this far longer than she could ever have guessed.

"No," she argued, waving a hand. "No, no, no. You hate me."

"I never said this."

"But you-."

"I will admit that my actions may have expressed this."

The shaking couldn't be contained this time.

"I-."

But she was speechless. Not a single word could calm or alter the confrontation. This was really happening.

So, she listened helplessly to his words. Words that were just as difficult for him to say as they were for her to ingest.

"For a very long time, I have been on my own. And experiences have taught me this was best. I must have met the worst of humanity in my life. They are the ones that kept me hating it. How easy it was to label you no different. Some tourist girl, maybe. Lost, selfish, and expendable. Just as the other girls."

Abby's gulp got stuck in her throat, and tears nearly bunched up as she inhaled.

_Do not cry, damn it. Do not fucking cry._

"It must have been immediate, my interest in you. From your childish psychology. Or I would have killed you before you were able to speak to Jonas. But watching you usher him into death in my language, kept that interest in my head constantly."

"Stop-."

"I will not," he argued firmly. "Not this time. Not when I have reserved what I have felt for so long."

"I thought you preferred it that way."

"As I mentioned, I've had a revelation. And you have never judged me as of yet."

An incredulous frown befell her lips.

"You are saying you did not notice the change?" he questioned indignantly, taking a step forward. "What your personality made me act like? I felt everything from the deepest hate to...things I have thought were not relevant to feel anymore."

The last was said harshly, as if she personally denied the words.

"How-."

"Your attitude. Your perception of life. Talking to me despite what I had put you through. Trusting me. And of course never giving in. You did it in such a beautiful way."

"I-."

"Your intelligence," he continued, seemingly lost within his own declaration. "Finally someone to communicate with who had a decent mind. Watching you pick apart people - situations. That was far more stimulating than you could imagine. Like I choose instruments before surgery, you chose emotions off the plates of each person you met."

Each time Abby tried to get out a word, she stopped herself at the intensity Heiter's face progressed into.

"You can't like me," she finally tried, denial settling in. "You never-."

"Not everybody is as forthcoming with their feelings as Klaus," he noted bitterly.

Her eyes expanded into two saucers, heart beating at break neck speed against her chest. If she didn't relax herself, her heart would surely break through her ribs.

"I do not know," he mused for a moment, "who I would like to have killed more. Ivan or Klaus."

"Klaus did nothing wrong," she defended.

The more intense Heiter's features became, the less she was able to decipher them.

"Nothing wrong?" he laughed, gun hand shaking a bit. "He attempted to separate you from me."

"Maybe with good reason."

For a brief second, something so incredibly dangerous and dark flashed across the surgeon's features that Abby hoped he'd pull the trigger just to escape what ever poisonous thought invaded his mind.

"You are not taking this well," he finally commented, tilting his head.

"You've got to pardon me for not jumping for joy at having a gun pointed at me."

"Like I said, I do not plan on killing you."

"I don't know why else you'd have it in your hand then," she retorted, fighting down the vulnerability her voice was set on adopting. "In fact, if you really wanted to kill me, you'd have done it already. I think maybe it's for scare."

He didn't answer, nor indicate whether her words were accurate or not.

With heart still drumming like a woodpecker, Abby took a cautious step backwards. Her green eyes stayed focused on Heiter, unsure exactly what she'd do upon the slightest of movements.

When no move was made from her captor, she sucked in a deep breath and allowed another foot to fall behind.

"I'm going to go to my room," she began as bravely as she could. "I'm going to get my clothes. Then, I'm going to go home. This is what I want, Heiter. I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I can't take anymore stress. Anymore pressure. I _need_ to go home."

When he continued to remain silent, Abby let out a calmer breath.

_Maybe he's not serious enough to do this._

Carefully, she took him in a final time before spinning around.

With her back to him, the level of vulnerability increased. But she had to do it eventually or else she'd have stood in that kitchen for ever. Unfortunately, her palms were sweating like crazy, something that's never happened before, and her vision seemed to blur at the edges.

_No, I will not faint now. Stay awake, damn it!_

Finally, an opening presented itself in which her fears did not prevent her from attempting a first step into the hallway.

But as soon as the foot sunk down, Abby's ears picked up the cock back Heiter's thumb initiated on the hammer of the gun.

"If you try to _run_-."

She cringed at the forcefulness of the last word.

"-I will put a bullet through your leg. That would force at least a six month stay in bed."

Her heartbeat nearly ceased altogether.

"Why are you doing this?" she exclaimed, twisting back toward him. "I still don't understand how you're suddenly interested in me when all your actions implied 'get away'. And now...you're going to be selfish enough to keep me from moving on just because I've entered your life? That's not right."

She said this last part tiredly, not exactly sure which emotion to feel. Her ability to empathize with the man still had not yet been removed even as he threatened to shoot her.

And there in lay the problem.

Despite his threat, Abby had formed an unacknowledged bond to him. All the singing and teasing she'd carried on around him, made her realize she'd enjoyed it just as much as had. The actual solving of the mystery and witnessing some spectacular events, gripped her down in her feet.

If that didn't showcase her own fault for letting it escalate to this point, she didn't know what else properly could.

_He's threatening more than to just shoot me. C'mon, dumbo. You know what this is._

She tried desperately to fight off the thought, but it rose from beneath the ground she'd buried it in.

"It is selfish of me," he agreed. "But after all of these years, I find that I can afford to be so. And even if you did run...Jakob would have nothing to offer you. He does not have your passport. I do. I burned it shortly after we came here."

The undying hopelessness physically made her sick.

"Is there anything you carry about? Reason? What's right?"

"I care about you very much."

They both seemed surprised once the words were voiced out loud.

"You're lying."

"I would not be threatening to shoot you in the leg, if I did not care."

The snort came out faster than the horror on her face, and mixed in together, Abby was sure she looked like an elephant who'd accidentally snorted cocaine.

"You certainly have a way with words."

"And despite all of this," he observed, "you still keep a sharp tongue and level head."

"Disability," she mumbled.

"Appeal," he counter argued.

"If you're not going to shoot me...then what do you want from me?"

He seemed stuck between a few options, none of which Abby particularly thought she'd enjoy.

_I could always try running for it._

But Heiter had been clear. If there was anything she was absolutely sure he'd do, it was shoot her in the leg. To prevent her from leaving. Just because-.

_"Why are you telling me this?"_

_"Because I think Heiter has been in the process of experiencing Syndromia for quite awhile now."_

No. No, no, no. No!

_"Abby...you may not see it because you're so distracted about what's going on, but Heiter has formed an entirely unhealthy attachment to you."_

The conversation poured into one ear like one would pour tea into a cup.

_Make it stop. Make it stop!_

_"But I couldn't help studying Heiter's reaction either. To see if I was right so I could warn you."_

_"Warn me about what?"_

_"About what his Syndromia could turn into. All of the results with the few studies we had, were not a good outcome for the victim. Most of them were never seen again."_

No, it wasn't real. Abby knew it wasn't real. A fictitious disorder discovered by a desperate psychologist after a bad week of sleep and an incoming divorce. They hadn't even taught it in her own university as she pursued the psych classes.

**No**.

_"Whenever I stood near you, there was a split second of fury on his face. When I took your hand, you didn't see his step forward to rip it away. You don't see it because you're distracted. No one blames you for that. But the man does not act toward you like he should. That initial hate he had in the beginning, should have resulted in your death numerous times. I hate to say this, but it's the truth. Haven't you wondered why he hadn't killed you for having the wrong blood tissue? Or saving your friends? Or kissing him? The way he's opened up to you, but refuses to anybody else, is not typical of a captor-captive relationship."_

Abby tried making the words stop by blasting it out.

_"I know your eyes in the morning sun, I feel you touching in the pouring rain-."_

Her eyes slammed shut together in panic. Nearly drowning out all other noise, Abby's heart raced as if it were working for multiple persons. The sweat continued to gather on the inside of her hands like a waterfall.

No. No. No. No. No.

The repetition, however, was entirely unnecessary. Somehow, the words kept on filing in like cars to a baseball stadium.

_"But I am giving you this warning, Abby. Heiter cares for you far deeper than you do for him. And you know how dangerously intelligent he is. Eventually, something will shift in your relationship. Unfortunately, I can't say it will be in your favor."_

With eyes bolted tight, she failed to notice the other man approach her.

All Abby felt was fear unlike any she'd ever experienced. Like she'd just rode a rollercoaster to the top of Mt. Everest and all she could do was wait in anticipation for the drop back down into an unrecognizable blackness. The drop was not pleasant, nor one she would easily be able to ascend from. In fact, at the bottom lay an unknown she hadn't ever considered. Wouldn't consider.

_"The thing that you confuse as Syndromia, is nothing but his hate receding for the time being."_

Truth or a lie? Even as she recognized herself the speaker of the sentence, Abby suddenly for the life of her, couldn't determine which.

Wouldn't.

_He can't be experiencing it._

Briefly, she wondered why she was so against the thought. Beside the obvious instability of the man and the manner in which they'd first met, his declaration could be considered sweet to some people considering how aloof he was usually.

_I think I'm petrified about what this means. And angry that I dismissed it. Because it couldn't have been real. It-._

"Abby."

The low grumble in which he'd said her name caused the blonde to pop open both eyes.

She nearly recoiled at how close they were.

He stood not even a full five feet away, gun still aimed at her, only further down. So if he approached any closer, the barrel would run directly into her thigh.

"What?" she sputtered, seeing her options suddenly vanish before her eyes.

"I don't wish to hurt you."

"You'll let me go home?" she asked hopefully.

"Only if that home is with me," he answered with no room to argue in his voice.

"You're mistaken then. My only home is back in the States. Where my family lived. Where I will continue to live."

Her gutsy speech was interrupted by his hand outstretching, gun suddenly far closer to her leg than it previously was.

"I had hoped this would not be by force," he admitted.

"I am not going back to that place," she nearly spat, trembling at the thought of the countless, white bedrooms. And the basement. Dear God, not the fucking basement.

"We won't. That is simply a villa I own."

Her heart sunk into the digestive system of her stomach.

"You own another home?" she questioned quietly, legs shaking.

"Far more secluded-."

He said it like it was a proud investment.

"-and less detectable. In fact, the purchase is not even under my name."

His brown gaze filled in the rest of the story.

"No one will find us," she concluded.

"No. And I am tired of sharing you with the rest of the world."

There was an irrational note of possessiveness within his tone, something she was sure he wanted her to pick up on.

"But…I want to go home."

"Think of your place with me as that," he answered, his features softening briefly.

_Run. Just run._

"Don't," he commanded. And he was finally close enough to press the tip of the metal weapon into her thigh.

One quick scan over his expression informed her of two terrifying things.

He would do it in a heartbeat.

And.

She would be subjected not only to a bed for six months, but to his constant care. If he truly wished to, he could keep the wound from never closing properly. In that case, she'd be his prisoner forever.

The sob broke through from nowhere, sounding like a wounded animal caught in a sharp trap. She didn't cry, but the need to was nearly overwhelming.

"Do not think this a bad thing," he explained, voice growing unnaturally soft again. "I will never hurt you and I will provide the attention and affection you will not get upon your journey back."

"That is not yours to give," she nearly growled out.

Her words had no impact on him whatsoever.

"This life will be everything you want," he promised his free hand extending until it reached the back of her head.

With an uncommon gentleness, he ran his thumb through a blonde lock and set it behind her ear. His other fingers splayed over her neck, enjoying the warmness there.

It felt like her tongue had permanently sealed itself to the roof of her mouth, allowing not a single protest. What else could she say? If she fled, he'd shoot her.

But if she stayed...well that nearly caused her to drown in the fear filling her up.

And the worst thing yet?

The formally blurred edges she'd come to know, made a sudden vengeful appearance. Only they did not stay contained to the edges, but drifted instead, into her focal point.

"Please," she murmured, unsure who she was talking to. "Please, don't."

Heiter immediately recognized what was happening. In reply, he pulled the gun back from her leg and instead with his free hand, pulled her into him.

The hug was awkward and tense. The further she tried to tug away, the harsher he tried to keep her in his embrace.

"Shh," he soothed, head resting in the crook of her neck. "It will be alright."

"No," she moaned, "no. Please, no."

But her head only pounded in response as the grip on her tightened.

Suddenly, she could smell the shampoo she had used so long ago, on him. The sweet smell contributed to the dizziness her brain stumbled through.

One hand clutched on to his shoulder, tear drops squeezing out from between her lids. Her body could no longer control her body's response to shut down. Without wanting to, her feet crumbled.

_Just let me fall, damn it. So I can try crawling away._

Heiter instead, did the gentlemanly thing.

As her body anchored itself down to the ground, he supported her weight with arms still locked around her. The entire time, his face stayed in between her collarbone and jaw.

"I cannot wait for you to smell like me again," he remarked as the blackness seeped into Abby's vision for a final time.

Still, despite the visual incapacitation, her ears could detect every mumble underneath Heiter's breath.

"You will come to love it, I know this. We will have an unlimited amount of time to know each other. This time, I will not be so harsh and cold. We will talk about art and I will try teaching you better German and you teach me better English. I will laugh at your jokes instead of trying to deny they were funny. I will do so much for you. So much."

If her eyes were still open, they'd have widened into an unheard of diameter.

"Please," she muttered back weakly.

The weight of his head suddenly disappeared and based on the clutch she had on his shoulder, the man was facing her directly.

There was a disquieting moment in which Abby was absolutely sure Heiter would begin leaning his head in. Why else would he just sit there and stare at her semi conscious form?

With a flinch, she suddenly felt both man's cool hands settle on each side of her face. One was tilting up her jaw and the others fingers trailed through the mass of blonde her hair.

"You will hate me at first," he all but determined, voice reaching that unbelievably soft texture again. "You value your freedom. I am expecting this. But that is how we began before. "

Abby wanted to spit something back to him. Something about how wrong this all was.

Unfortunately, the only thing to come to mind was the dream she'd had of the lion.

_Is this what it meant by choosing my own fate? Because I had so steadily ignored Klaus's warning, I deserve this._

"The next time you awake," his last soft words promised, "you _will _be home."

She tried to plead, but darkness swam like an impeding tsunami.

_It might not be so bad._

This thought lasted half a second before being obliterated. The man who currently promised her asylum with him for the rest of her life, hardly made decisions based off of reason.

_That's why he likes me. Why he can't bare to let go. Because I rarely do so myself and it's so seldom to find someone who sees so much potential in the worst of beings._

Soon after this thought passed, her hearing gradually dimmed until dying altogether.

All Abby knew was a familiar darkness. And all she feared before the darkness took her away, was the future she'd unknowingly created for herself with a madman she had unwittingly come to understand.

* * *

><p><strong>I want to stress something about Heiter. With the exception of one time (when he pointed the gun at Abby's head toward the beginning of the story, intending to kill her), I never wrote anything in his POV. So, I wanted you all to feel like Abby was. To be focused on the mystery of her dad, completely unaware of what was going through the surgeon's mind. Even as Klaus hinted at it, I think the thought of Abby reaching closure is far more important. If you think his sudden shift into an obsessed madman is very, well...sudden, then I'm glad. He had been gradually building and building with his emotions, constantly wondering what he should do with Abby. The more oblivious she was to his attention toward her, the easier it was for him to want her. Completely. While I may not have written this, I wanted to explain that this was what was happening inside him. That, and Syndromia - again, false disorder but I thought it'd be interesting to have a reverse case of Stockholm Syndrome and not write a character in love with their captor. Because know this, while Abby understands at the very end why exactly Heiter has this deep affection for her, it doesn't mean she accepts it. She wanted to go home, and at the end of the story, still remembers despite everything, what Heiter had put her through. That sort of logic is what made fainting for the final time, such a bittersweet moment. <strong>

**Also, I want to explain why in a very messed up way, these two are perfect for each other, even without meaning to be. Abby is a naturally open minded person, but this is extended tenfold with her dad's history. She's come to see that all killers are not emotionless, cold blooded people. In fact, with the affection her dad showed her, she does the same without realizing it, upon other people. This other person being Heiter who really does not give a crap about anyone else but himself. He simply finds those type of feelings weak and unnecessary. And after such a long isolation, there is very little to him emotionally. So, upon their first meeting, Abby didn't capture his attention like some school boy in love. Instead, she appealed to him through something he valued greatly above all - intelligence. This included her knowledge of German language, vocal opinions that sounded well thought out, knowledge of medicine, and even her incredible strength mentally. Gradually, he discovered that she was very strange. She was often calm, and responded back to him as if he hadn't done everything he had to her. First, this is a frustrated topic of confusion for him, but later on, I think it morphs into a hope that she'd be able to forget about what he did to her once he realizes her importance to him - something he denies like a madman. After months within each others presence, they gain a mutual understanding of each other - to a certain degree. Abby realized there's more to the surgeon than meets the eye and a part of her cannot stop the curiosity from building. And added in with Gregory's disappearance and eventual murder, this brings them closer together - to understand who the other is. The rest of the story is just Abby pushing that boundary (joking around, singing like a mad woman, or being very kind), not really realizing that Heiter is coming to enjoy it. I don't know how else I can put it into words, because they are in my head, but not really coming out on here. Still, I hope that explained something.**

**Finally, the end of this story is meant for your imagination to go wild and wonder what Abby's life will be like from here on. She's not happy, and you can't guarantee it will end like it did the first time. He is forcibly imprisoning her, and it's scarier because he's doing it out of an emotion he hasn't felt that often in his life. And despite Heiter's softness toward her, he is still just as calculating and dangerous. If he spent all of this time carrying out this plan, there is very little he won't do to make sure she does not leave. This is where his steel resolve would snap back into place. In some ways, he's completely different than he was at the beginning of the story. In other ways, completely the same.**

**Now, I would at this point begin thanking my reviewers like crazy...except that...well, I have this idea for writing one more chapter, only, it's not really a chapter. It's like more of an aftermath or epilogue. The setting would be after an undeterminable amount of time from this past chapter and I'd kind of touch on, but not go in as deep description wise, of what life is like for Abby after the second kidnapping. It would definitely be far darker than how this chapter ended. However, it does not have to be written. I've got an idea, but if you guys think it's wise to just end it here, I will do as such. For some of you, it might be better just to use your imagination rather than me write the next installment. So, as always, let me know your thoughts in a review, and specifically, whether you want one last piece.**

**Otherwise, my thanks can not express what your words have meant to me. Thank you all so very, very much and I love you all.**


	27. Chapter 27

**I began this Epilogue with the tremendous support of some incredible reviewers. You will all be credited at the bottom of the page so look for your name. As promised, I didn't delve into a full on description and this is simply a snapshot of two months into Abby's captivity. Funnily enough, this Epilogue was started three different times, but none of them seemed to work out. Which ended up being incredibly frustrating. So then I decided to switch POV's and what I got is...well, I am warning you, it's disturbing. Then again, not as disturbing as the movie. But there's well...I want to warn you, but I fear that it will ruin the ending. So, I am telling you that it is not mandatory to read this Epilogue. Especially if you are easily discomforted by what I ended up writing. It's disgusting and sickening and I really delved into a very creepy activity. Please, keep an open mind and enjoy, despite the grimness of the situation.**

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue - How Deep is Your Love?<strong>

Only when the midnight hour passed did Heiter slowly edge open the door. He didn't have to be concerned with a squeak or a groan from the ancient wooden structure. Abby was out deep, something he made sure of just like he had other nights.

Entering the room, he wondered whether she was aware he'd added extra sedatives into the food he'd been cooking. Since it had been only a week long occurrence, he guessed it'd be a few more days before she caught on.

_Perhaps this is one of those times her intelligence works against me._

The window projected the glare of the moon through the turbulent, gray clouds blocking its path. The snow helped reflect the illumination as any animals outside lay silent in the dead of night.

His eyes slowly traveled from one end of the room to another, starting with the window.

At first, he had been furious with the house first built nearly a decade ago. The windows were way too damn high, this room in particular. The builders attempted to claim it'd bring in sunlight faster and was the ideal room for someone who appreciated nature's beauty. Initially, it had been for-.

He stopped himself, shaking the whore's name from his mind.

Now, however, the room had worked out to his complete satisfaction.

Could it have been possible it was always meant to be this way? Used for his future captive?

An ironic smile tugged at his lips as he continued his scanning.

He'd been unsure at first whether to provide the room with a desk or table. Abby had a frustrating ability to be creative and surely one of those objects would in someway be used against him.

So, he refrained. At least until she began accepting her place.

The room was sparse without furniture, but at least it had a window. He prized himself on accomplishing that, remembering it was one of the primary things Abby had complained about at his villa.

It took three more silent minutes before his eyes fully adjusted to the dimness suffocating the room.

_By now, she will hardly recognize the light._

Still, he hesitated before flicking on the switch. If she had even the slightest idea he'd been drugging, then entering her room at night, she'd react unfavorably. And considering what her reaction to him "kidnapping" her was so far, it might literally drive him insane.

_Moderation. I cannot do this every single night._

But this didn't settle well in his head.

Ever since her "captivity" over two months ago, she had remained irrationally cold toward him. He was expecting anger. He was expecting rage. He was expecting a constant battle over every single thing he commanded of her.

Instead, she ignored him.

That, he quickly determined, was far worse than any form of stubbornness she could have emitted. And he was quite sure she was aware of that.

But not even the hostility could mar the three attempts she'd made at escape.

Which brought him to one of his favorite features to observe. Wrapped tightly around the base of her ankle was a monitor.

He'd often heard of its use in house arrest cases, and the piece of technology worked perfectly to keep Abby from fleeing. Not only did it blast a sharp, high pitched wail each time she left the house, it also sent electric current flowing through her leg, making it near impossible for her to properly walk, much less run.

Of course this hadn't prevented her from crawling.

Eventually, the electricity got to be too much and the first two times, she simply passed out on the lawn. Nothing he was too concerned about. He hadn't been lying when he mentioned they'd be settling down somewhere vacant. The nearest neighbor was over a three hour drive away. And his home by the sea did not straddle a main road. In fact, there were such a grand tangle of roads on their way that Heiter had nearly forgotten altogether how to get to their destination.

The third time she attempted an escape, he realized just how desperate she was. And crafty.

She'd taken a shower before her last attempt, and he didn't think much of it even as he'd heard the wail break out, indicating her venture outside. However, when he observed the smoke spewing from her bent form on the lawn minutes later, he was sure he'd seen white.

On purpose, Abby had remained wet in hopes of the current electrocuting her to death.

After she'd regained consciousness, he threatened to rinse her with a towel himself until she was dry from head to toe, every single day. The horror on her face had been gratifying and disappointing at the same time.

_But it taught her a lesson._

His eyes darkened in the bright room, staring at the monitor encompassing her pale, smooth leg. For such a naturally brunette individual, the hairs on her limbs were a near bleached blonde. This made it incredibly convenient to deny her a razor.

Slowly, his brown eyes traveled from leg to hip.

Abby normally slept on her side with the sheets bunched up in random areas of her body. Heiter had found this oddly amusing upon first glimpse. It seemed like a different portion of her body was cold each night and she couldn't quite figure out which part to cover.

A few minutes passed by, but the surgeon was only content with staring.

Despite his invasion of privacy, Abby was different than other people he'd met. He naturally cared about her, and even a task as simple as observation (or maybe voyeurism was more appropriate), seemed like a breach in trust.

But her constant evasive behavior had finally worn him down.

It wasn't like he expected they'd regress back to the relationship they had before.

Still, two months of silence at the dinner table, the den, her bedroom, and anywhere else he attempted to converse with her, snapped the last of his patience.

In his mind, he classified it as such - if she wouldn't give him her attention whilst conscious, he'd attain it while she was asleep. And for the past week, his routine had been working quite nicely.

_I do not have to see the hate in her eyes. Or the disgust. _

With this thought in mind, Heiter gravitated toward the sleeping woman and gently lowered himself on the edge of the bed.

Normally, he'd begin speaking to her in German at this point as he had done in the week past. Her petrified state of sleep allowed him to mention things he didn't think he had ever made public before.

This time, however, one of his hands shot out. It hesitated for a moment, unsure of the response it'd get were she awake.

_That's the point. She is asleep and I may do to her what I wish._

When his cool palm finally met her forehead, he released a sigh. One that spilled out from a place deeper than just relief.

_Beautiful. Simply beautiful._

His fingers extended and soon, he found his hand wandering down to cup her chin. With fingers splayed possessively over her jaw, Heiter took a rare opportunity to simply enjoy something he hadn't been able to do for awhile now.

In fact, the last time he had been able to place a hand on her was during her drug transition phase in which watching her dream became absolutely engrossing. She'd struggle with a blanket, kicked at her sheets, even cursed underneath her breath, all while slumbering in a nightmare. Those rare moments were when he indulged himself with a pat or a prod on to her skin.

Of course then, the touches meant little compared to what they meant now.

A light sigh passed from her, into the atmosphere, but Heiter fought back his anxiety. Instead, the noise soothed his ears and allowed him the confidence to lower himself gently beside her.

In minutes, he too was laying on his side, facing her. One hand still rested on a pale cheek, while the other strived to place itself in the next available spot.

"So very beautiful, meine liebe," he whispered, eyes taking in each angle of Abby's skin.

When his confidence - mistaken for, quite honestly, his lust - began to grow, cupping her cheek simply was not enough.

He brought his hand to the front of her nose, making sure her breaths were still even.

_She will be gone until morning._

He tried to quench the thrill that shot up his spine and spread through his body like a wildfire, but the feeling was far too strong.

Quietly, he lifted a hand and slid it over her hip until his fingers pressed into the flesh of her back. His breaths were quick, and he was thankful he'd kept his attire simple. White shirt, black pants.

He waited another minute, making sure his hands would properly work for the next set of instructions.

Inch by inch, he began a motion of sliding their bodies together. His body moved in calculative squirms, closer and closer. Hers were simply dictated by his arm. With a delicacy he only reserved for her, Heiter pulled at Abby's dormant body until it rested only a centimeter away from his own.

When they were finally close enough to his liking, the surgeon wordlessly marveled at his body's reaction to the blonde woman. A titanic clench in his stomach, excited tingles rushing through him, even his damned pants were starting to become uncomfortable.

These reactions were hardly typical reactions he'd felt in his life, even when he was still with the whore_. _

And that offered him a forbidden pleasure he had not yet indulged in.

The inaudible silence of the room spurred the man to make a decision.

Abby's scent, completely immersed within his own hygiene products since he'd refused to give her anything other than his own, crawled into his nostrils and assaulted his senses. It knew what he wanted, what he hadn't made clear to Abby while she was awake. And it begged him to take it.

_The opportunity is here. She would never know._

When he exhaled, tiny blonde hairs scattered from the crown of her head. Carefully, Heiter extended his head until his lips pressed into her forehead. Simultaneously, he inhaled and the powerful urge shot up tenfold.

Where once his hand rested on her back, it now began a crawling descent down to the waste band of her own pajama bottoms.

_What a shame I will be doing this as she sleeps._

But Heiter was a reasonable man. And if there was anything he was sure of, it was that Abby would understand his actions. The woman was incapable of not feeling sympathy for him, just as he was incapable of harming her for fear of losing the presence he so much desired.

"One day, meine liebe, you will see our potential."

Those were the last words he promised before beginning a relentless chant of her name while his fingers set out to explore every evasive inch of the woman he wanted with an unwavering lust.

APHAPHAPHAPH

From the second Abby's eyes shot open on a chill, February morning, she recognized something to be...off.

For one, she felt warm. Not because of the blankets, but internally as well. As if she'd swallowed a flame and the burning ball had kept her ignited all night.

Secondly, there was the lack of tension in her shoulders. Every single night, Abby fell back into the bed as if each muscle was stringed as tightly as a bow.

Now, however, the muscles seemed to have all but disintegrated whatever anxiety kept them so straight.

The last peculiar incident wasn't something she noticed until she got to her feet.

_Did I pee in my pajamas or something?_

She entered the bathroom shortly after, intent on changing into new clothes after a tumble underneath the shower head. When she lowered her panties off her legs and took the time to observe the fabric in the middle, a white substance greeted her horrified gaze.

_Oh my God? Did he-?_

A sensible side of her tried to reason otherwise.

_I've been out like a rock for the past week. How is that possible when most nights I went sleepless? And waking up feeling so relaxed-._

One trembling hand shot to her mouth as a choked sob spilled out.

She nearly had a heart attack when the entire house exploded with sound.

Most likely, it was the CD system in the den Heiter used to play his Viennese classical music. Nevertheless, it didn't cease to calm her sudden panic.

Her eyes dropped back down to her panties as 'How Deep is Your Love' drifted underneath each door, barging into every room of the house. By now, every fiber in her body hated the song. He played it constantly, as if it would change her mind about what he was doing to her.

What he's done.

Growing wider, Abby's eyes fluttered shut as she stumbled back into the shower, preoccupied with the white stain.

_Is it his...or mine?_

* * *

><p><strong>Yep, I'm leaving it right there. THE END! And yes, if you need some clarity, Heiter did touch her while she was sleeping. Intimately. Abby's question in the end is your own interpretation. Would he be just content with a touch, or would he want more? Did he rape her or just molest? Either option is really a fucking creepy thought. And by the end, Heiter really believes her sympathy is expansive enough to over look the fact that he did touch her while she slept. Something he did because he was frustrated at the isolation she held toward him as opposed to the confrontation and banter which made him like her in the first place.<strong>

**So I hope that was kind of messed up for some of you and didn't disappoint too much. Meine liebe is a German phrase you'll just have to look up if you don't know it. I feel like the prospect of Heiter calling her that is something you'll squeal about on your own time with Google Translate. **

**I do have something for you all as well. It's like a credit list. So find your name and you will begin to understand how important your reviews have been to me.**

**Angel1932 - First and foremost, you are the reason this story was written. I was completely inspired by your fantastic portrayal of life post-centipede for Lindsey in Infection. It was a petastool and if I hadn't read it, I would never have began this. You were the first review, the first story alert, the first everything! Thank you so so so so so so so much. Not only that, but your reviews were heart warming to read. You explained in great deal, the things you loved and I tried writing the next chapter based off that review. You never gave up on me and got through with me from Ch 1 to the Epilogue. Thank you, again and I only would hope to have a reviewer again as thoughtful and incredible as you. I really can't wait where you continue to go with Infection and if you ever get stuck, just steer back to the brilliance in which you first began it. Much Love, - SM.**

**the-dark-poetess-911 - I can't even begin to describe how ultimately important your reviews were. Second person to add this on story alert, you and Angel1932 were my only reviewers for awhile. You did this thing that I've never had any reviewers do before. You went into depth and you made me feel like I was the best damned writer on the face of this planet. Your constant support for whatever direction I took the story made me believe I could write anything. Honestly, your reviews made my entire fucking day. Beautiful, uplifting, and if I close my eyes and think for a second, might even be true - for a second, of course. Don't ever stop reading because some other author will gain just as much joy and inspiration as I have with the feedback you give. Thank you so very, very much. I literally came to reread your reviews for a second spark of inspiration and your words were some of the kindest I've ever gotten. In fact, you are undoubtedly one of my favorite reviewers of all time and are worth a definite mentioning in my future Oscar speech. Much Love, - SM.**

**StrangeKindOfMirror - You sort of crept in with your reviews later on, but you stuck with contributing your thoughts and I gained incredible confidence with whatever I was writing as a result. You voiced your support effortlessly and even though I felt like I had committed a million mistakes, you only saw the good and pointed it out. Your reviews were an absolute pleasure to read and I'm so glad you enjoyed the ride. Author's live for reviewers like you and I can't imagine where this story would be if you hadn't offered up insight about the story. You have incredibly intelligent things to say and I feel priveleged to have some one so well spoken and intellectual review my story. Thank you so very, very much and I hope the ending satisfied some part of you. Much Love, - SM.**

**Explodingsushi15 - To me, you seem like a very hyper individual. Your reviews always seemed like they couldn't wait to be written and for that, I am thankful. They were a pleasure to read because you accepted the plot and appreciated things in it that I didn't even think twice about. Your constant excitement for the next chapter made me want to not only upload a chapter quicker, but write it in a manner that you'd greatly enjoy. I also loved how into the story you got and hearing my plot being talked about in a review is something so mindblowing and heart warming that I can only offer up a bazillion thank yous. Thank you so, so, so very much. And the fact that you feel like I've taught you writing ideas and styles (I'm only a Junior in High School), is something I can't properly wrap my head around. Thank you for inspiring me, thus being the inspiration for yourself all along. Much Love, - SM.**

**YinYangSisters - Okay, you've actually reviewed on multiple stories of mine - DW stories are the ones that come to mind. I never got to thank you for those reviews properly because of the kind words you said. You claimed I was one of best authors you've ever read from and my brain literally died. Hearing that, especially when I detested my writing so much at one point, brought up my confidence up to a level I never had it at before. THANK YOU SO MUCH! The fact that you continue to follow my stories which transcend genres and ideas, is really quite fantastic. I feel like I have a real fan each time you review. They help in a manner you wouldn't believe and to have a fan who enjoys the good and the bad I write, makes me want to kidnap you just so I can plop you beside me and listen to your thoughts. Can't ever thank you enough for everything you've done to contribute inspiration and determination. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope to continue to see your reviews on other stories, especially if I ever get the motivation to begin another Donna/Master fic. Much Love, - SM.**

**I didn't forget those others who reviewed one or two times, and I want to thank those. But above...you guys are just unbelievable and I want you to know that. This story is here because of all of you. Words can't describe my gratefulness. Just...thank you. That's all I can say.**


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